The Music Box
by Jerkess
Summary: He was a boy, she was a dancer. And no, it was not all that obvious. Things tend to get complicated when Rukia and Ichigo are involved, especially when Rukia’s sidejob as an assassin marks her as a fugitive. Dare they cross the line between love and hate?
1. Chance Encounter

Hello readers! This is my first Bleach fic and actual fanfiction since...a helluva long time ago! Enjoy.

I do not own Bleach. If I did…well…that would be another story onto itself. :)

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**The Music Box**

**Chapter 1 **

They met by accident. She had been quietly peeping into a window when she thought no one was looking, which, of course, had been quite the opposite.

"Oy, what the hell are you doing?"

Rukia nearly tumbled down from the crate from the sudden noise. "What the-?" she sputtered, kicking aside her makeshift ladder and dropping a full manila folder on the ground. She turned around to find an odd-looking student with an irritated look on his face.

"Why are you spying on the Karate team's changing room?"

Was that what that room was? _Shit_. She was way off target.

"I wasn't."

"Oh really? Beyond suspicious."

She couldn't believe her miserable luck. If she had known that she had cut her mission short just to have a pointless confrontation with a stupid teenage punk, she wouldn't have bothered. She could think of better ways to waste her time. Thus, being undeniably irked, she responded: "Who the hell do you think you are, creeping around this deserted part of the school and calling _me_ 'suspicious'? I could ask you the samef, you know!"

The newcomer scratched his hair, making his already unkempt hair more disheveled, and merely snorted. "Right... You've got about ten seconds to tell me why you're here."

Rukia glared at him for a few moments more and allowed her breathing to steady after the sudden startle. There was no one else around, so this rude twit would have to be the one to help her.

"Well…" she cleared her throat and hoped she wouldn't incriminate herself further. If she did, well, she'd be screwed over and then some. "I'm going to be enrolled in here some time soon, and I was looking around for my department. You know, checking it out and seeing if it suits me… I think I got lost," she lied.

"Damn right you did," the kid scowled, his eyes amber eyes glinting with mistrust as he inspected her from an angle. "If the karate crew caught you around here, they would have used you for their punching bag, midget!"

She huffed and bit the inner side of her cheek to will the urge to slap him away."Thanks for the considerate warning," she responded dryly, "but I can hold my own just fine, thanks. Please point me to the dancing studios." Rukia consulted the campus map helplessly and with an unwilling face and showed the map to the boy. " I took Roosevelt Trail to the Eastern Conservatory, but …"

"You were supposed to go left."

"Oh." God she felt stupid.

To avoid the awkward silence, she retrieved the papers she dropped, but she felt his glaring gaze on her back. To say she was slightly unnerved was an understatement. She turned to go.

"Wait a minute," he demanded as she was about to leave, "why aren't you with the five o'clock tour if you really are here to examine the school?"

Good question. She mentally slapped herself. "Um…well. I'm new to this area, so I...uh, really don't know much about Wilford. I mean, just enough to recognize their dance academy." Why was she stuttering again? The word 'degrading' kept on flashing through her mind.

The lanky guy relaxed his guarded stance a bit, and his fingers coiled instinctively around the white bag he was shouldering. "So you are a dancer?"

"Yeah," Rukia grinned weakly. "Of course."

Unexpectedly, he started guffawing. "God, you are so bad at lying! Jeez, thank goodness you aren't trying for the drama department! What a joke you would have made."

"Hmph," she sniffed to herself, slightly disgruntled. "And I thought rich folk would have had common decency to respect a person's say. I guess manners are still too much to expect from the wealthy youth."

"I heard that."

"Good."

Rukia stepped lightly over the carefully planted roses onto the cobbled walkway, pointedly ignoring the boy who was walking steadily towards her. It had been dark where she was peeping in the window, and so she had just brushed the absurd notion aside. But now in the bright sunlight, she just confirmed that his hair color was indeed orange.

"Yeah, so what if I'm handsome," he smirked at an open mouthed Rukia, who was unfortunately caught staring bug-eyed at the boy's hair, "but I thought common people also had the courtesy to avert their eyes when appropriate."

"Excuse me?" Rukia asked indignantly when she had enough sense to close her mouth. "I was only in awe of your expert ability of matching outfits."

She looked at him up and down, eyes traveling from his bright, orange, and might she add, _bizarre_ orange hair to its overall lack of coordination with the dark maroons and opulent cobalts of the school blazer.

"What a lame excuse." the boy grumbled. "Anyhow, at least I'm inconspicuous. How do you even plan to blend in without a uniform?"

" 'Inconspicuous' my ass! You are a blind artist's worst nightmare." She tapped her foot impatiently, thinking of so many happy ways to wipe the cocky smile off of the idiot's face. "As I've said, Ginger, I'm new. That means I'm not an expert at your school's dressing attire. So sue me if I don't arrive for an informal self-tour decked out in your swanky uniforms. And most of the people here are here for the school's performing arts program, right?"

She received a slight nod from companion. "So may I ask why in the world that involves dressing like businessmen?"

'Ginger' lazily spat out his gum and deposited it into an ornately carved trashcan. "So we can 'aspire to be the bright, determined intellects we are by appearing as would the most successful and powerful people in society'."

He glanced briefly at Rukia, who looked as incredulous as he felt about the money squandering uniforms. "Pretty ridiculous, I know, but whatever the strange director dictates, that's what we've got to do here."

He was grudgingly walking her towards her destination, wherever that was. Still, Rukia knew that the boy was not even remotely close to accepting her fabrications. There was still an unbeliving edge to the boy's countenance; he'd have to deal with it.

The short girl looked in wonder around her at the lavish extensions adorning Wilford.

There were stately looking lamp posts, all in the nineteenth century style, of ourse, and carvings on the eaves of the patios surrounding the educational edifices. Lush grass grew in abundance amongst row upon row of exquisite buds. Dotted around the campus were gleaming statues of esteemed persons, and the occasional cluster of awards and achievement monuments attributed to some part of the school or another. The Wilford campus was truly the epitome of a well to do academy. Hell, even the _air_ smelled rich. Whether it was due to the excessive amount of cologne that males of the upper portion of society loved to spray or the scent of the various fauna that made it a habit of making Rukia sneeze, the whole place reeked of wealth.

Beyond the garden they were currently walking through was a homey cottage café, complete with the whole smoking chimney deal, even though it June. Rukia was staring wistfully at the oaken sign on the door reading "Colloquiale" when she felt a rough nudge in her back.

"Ow," she hissed. "What was that for?"

"If you're done drooling…The way is to the auxiliary gymnasium is long, because the school's so big. I've just gotten out of practice, so I'm starving. If you need to get there soon, tough luck. But if you have a minute or two, I'm off to grab one of the "Colloquiale"'s famous sandwiches. I can take you with me, but…"

She immediately perked up and grinned.

"Why, thank you sir, I graciously accept!" She quite regally forgave his gruff tone and attempted to sound like the gentry. "In fact, I'm charmed that you invited me."

Whether out of fatigue or anything else, 'Ginger' didn't bother to correct her.

The sound of sandwiches alone was enticing, not to mention the promise of looking on the inside of that adorable café. Putting all other thoughts aside (which included several important things: such as talking with the director and scouting her future training place and arranging times with her instructor), and quite forgetting that she had left her purse at her last job, she happily accepted the invitation.

* * *

Two platters of sandwiches and an exasperated Ginger later, Rukia was finally content to stop eating.

"Hey, you weren't lying, were you, Ginger," she asked, "when you said they made the best BMT sandwiches in the world."

"Yeah," he snarled, "they _were_ the best sandwiches in the world until a certain pig ate them all!"

"My bad. Well, they were really delicious, if that is of any comfort to you."

The irritated boy leaned back into his wicker chair and raised an eyebrow at the properly fed girl. She was actually not half bad looking, he decided suddenly, when she wasn't yelling or screaming at you. Then he abruptly reprimanded himself. He could have been dealing with an escaped convict, for all he knew. Worse yet, the possible escapee had just royally deprived him of his two Free Sandwich Platter certificates that he won from in the bet for the outcome of the tournament last week. His friend Asano Keigo was horrible at placing bets, but still, the devoured delicacies felt like they had been snatched from very his mouth, even though watching the little dwarf pig out on the food had been almost worth his growling stomach.

Almost.

"Hey, you, shorty. What would you have done if I didn't have the coupons?" The café was a buffet type restaurant, so Rukia could have consumed a helluva lot before the waitresses caught on to her.

Said shorty contemplated the inquiry and tucked a stray strand of onyx hair behind her ear. She smiled deviously. "Oh, don't worry, I would have found a plan, one way or another."

Her reply sent a slight chill down his spine. Just what did this odd person want with Wilford? He hadn't bought her dancing act for a moment. But still, despite all the initial glamour Wilford held, life was actually quite slow around the parts, so he welcomed any distractions.

"Are you implying you'd threaten the school?"

"No…not directly, at least. I have my own ways of conserving money, Ginger."

"Don't call me that."

"Would you rather I refer to you as insolent brat?"

The boy rubbed his temples tiredly and tried to maintain a sense of calm amid the clatter of silverware on plate. "I do have a name you know. It's common courtesy to respect the person treating you to lunch…however unknowingly. I have a name… So use it."

"Oh?" Her eyes narrowed a fraction. "Hit me."

Keeping a stolid front, the karate champ whipped out his fist accordingly and proceeded to punch Rukia in the face. Hard.

"Bastard!" she yelped as she tried to stem the blood from her nose with a fancy napkin. Her loud screech heralded the stern appraisal of several waitresses nearby, and he tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to stop the flow.

"Are you okay?"

"Whab de hell do you tink, Ginger? You puntzed me in de face and all you can day is 'ahb you okay?'"

Getting the last drop from the glass table, he smirked and replied with a belittling taunt, "None of this would have happened if you didn't call me Ginger and specifically _ask_ me to hit you."

"It's a figure of speech, moron. And I can call you whatever I please, considering I don't know it."

"It's better that you don't, and address me something proper, like 'young mister', or some formal crap like that. Got it?" Seeing her bemused look, he donned an annoying holier-than-thou attitude and said, "It's like when you're in Rome, do as the Romans do."

"Right…Ginger."

"I friggen told you it's not Ginger!" Ginger cried, thrusting an accusing finger at Rukia. "It's Ichigo dammit!"

Rukia almost died due to severe blood loss from reopening of wounds in her nose.

"That's even better!" she cackled. "You know, if I was you, I would have stuck with Ginger. It's a lot more manly than 'Strawberry'."

"Actually," Ichigo cleared his throat, correcting an upset vase on the table that Rukia had knocked down in her fit of hysterical laughter, "it means one who protects." He struggled with the vein threatening to burst on his forehead, but settled with banging his hand onto the table. "And I bet your name is worse than mine."

"In your dreams, Ginger boy. Mine's Rukia."

"What's it mean?"

Rukia stayed silent, playing with a lost crumb on the table while avoiding his eyes. "Would you believe me if I said I didn't know?"

Ichigo stared and then felt that it was something too personal. "Yeah."

She settled uncomfortably and her eyes traveled to his bag. "So what do you do here?"

"I'm here for Karate."

Ah. Well, that explained the punch.

"That somehow doesn't surprise me."

Ichigo 'hmph'ed and felt oddly irritated."What's up with that condescending attitude?"

The girl across from him only made a haughty face and looked away.

The day had been a long one for Ichigo. First, he had left his dormitory late because a certain prissy archer had forgot to reset the alarm clock, then, he had forgotten his wallet, and to top it all off, Zangetsu-dono had been extremely strict during Karate practice. Rukia's grimace was the last straw.

"You can't just evade questions! After all, I'm treating you to lunch, and you aren't even cooperating. I'm really tempted to just call a school proctor and have you reported."

"My my," Rukia said icily, "It's your arrogant charade that pisses _me_ off."

And before Ichigo could protest, the small girl had dragged him out of the restaurant, considerate enough to abduct him with karate gear in tow, and lectured him outside in a remarkably chilling tone.

"One. You don't make a big scene. Two, you really don't have a choice in the matter."

"Big scene my ass! You broke two things in the restaurant and screamed and laughed at my name! You know, Shorty," he huffed, "you can try yelling it out a bit louder. I'm sure there are still a few people in Rukongai who haven't heard you."

"Two, you really don't have a choice in the matter," she repeated frostily.

What he saw confirmed that. Rukia had positioned her foot unnervingly close to a sensitive area. Ichigo was on thin ice if he wanted to ever preserve his manhood.

"…Okay, I get it. And don't stand that close to me, idiot! People are starting to stare." He slowly pushed her aside, not wanting to rile up the angry little wench any more than necessary (hell, he wanted to have kids one day), and as soon as she backed up, he shoved her towards the gymnasium's general direction without preamble.

"Seeya, sucker!" He ran quickly the other direction, not bothering to stop to enjoy her high pitched screech.

And what a pity it was. There they were, and she finally thought that they were going to get along.

He almost made it to his dorm before hearing an eerily familiar voice.

"Sucker?! And who exactly is the sucker in this situation?"

Rukia, after recovering from her rude send off, had sprinted at an inhuman speed towards Ichigo. Before he could so much as sweatdrop, she had already had him in a headlock.

"You are going to tell me how to get to the gymnasium now," she murmured in a deadly voice. "One wrong move and it's all over for you, bud."

Ichigo gulped and obediently guided her in the right direction.

"Okay, now that you are behaving," she said authoritatively, "we are going to start all over again."

Ichigo stared at her as if she was crazy. "Are you asking me to get abused again?"

"No…I just wanted to start off on a better foot, so we can treat each other as equal beings."

He tactfully bit his tongue, trying really hard not to point out that basically abducting someone on their own campus wasn't exactly the definition of justice, and his eyes raked across the campus to make sure no one he knew was watching him being manipulated by a midget girl.

"Oh," Rukia suddenly jumped up, " that reminds me."

She beckoned Ichigo closer as if she was going to tell him something. At the last moment, she slapped him.

"WHY THE HELL--?"

"We weren't even, remember? You hit me in the café. Now we are all set to become refined colleagues," she grinned with a feral glint in her amethyst eyes.

"Bah!" Ichigo scuttled into a nearby bathroom, sulking. He didn't even bother saying thanks to the restroom attendant who had handed him a band aid for his scuffed nose. God, that girl was pissing him off. What was more annoying was that he couldn't get rid of her.

He walked with dread towards the bench she was seated at.

She glanced up with feinted surprise and straightened. Ichigo stared at her extended hand, puzzled, for some moments, still suspicious of a trick.

"Please shake it, sir," she smiled through tightly gritted teeth. "I'm not going to bite."

"You'll never know, I mean, you just sla—"

"Oh ho ho! Did you just say something?"

Ichigo thought better of it and shook his head.

"My name is Kuchiki Rukia, and I'm very glad to meet you!"

Ichigo had a faint suspicion that she was referring to his act of providing sandwich coupons rather than the pleasure of her actually meeting him, but he decided not to comment for the sake of his health.

"I'm Kurosaki Ichigo," he responded, "and I'm still wondering what the hell you're doing here. Even more so, what the hell I am still doing here talking with you."

"You were supposed to act semi-civilized this time, Mr. Kurosaki." Rukia said scathingly.

If her Nii-sama spotted her at that moment, she was sure that he would be very disappointed, not only because of her previous mess up (aka getting caught by this stupid asshole after she had sworn that she would have been careful), but also because he would assume all their evening sessions of "Controlling Your Emotions" would have been entirely wasted. For at that moment, the corner of Rukia's lip was twitching almost imperceptibly, but enough so that her irritation was visible.

"You suck, midget. Come on, let's go."

He dragged her onto a nearby trolley line while telling her through her protests that he'd have to take her on with him, as she didn't have a student ID. Walking was not an option.

While she was lazily dangling her feet off the side of the car, he sat down wearily beside her. The setting sun was blinding Rukia, but she could still make out his loud hair in her vision.

"Say," she remarked suddenly, "You really don't fit in here much, neh?"

He saw her accusing eyes indicating at the 'dignified' youths on their car and outside and nodded.

"I guess I don't."

"I thought all rich people were all the same."

"What made you think that?" He asked, idly fiddling with the zipper on his sports bag. "They're folks just the same."

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I guess it's the mentality I grew up to. And besides, you all get spoiled enough to pass as from being from the same mold, don't you?"

"I wouldn't claim that," Ignorant much? "Besides, I'm here on a scholarship, so stop treating me like a spoiled brat."

Rukia's eyes shone with…surprise? for a moment before lowering her face back onto her knees. She fingered her own capris unconsciously, perhaps feeling even more out of place than Ichigo himself was.

"If you were that good to have been given a scholarship, you would have been able to defend against my expertly timed slap."

Ichigo snorted, earning a few disapproving looks from other people. "Lucky shot, that's what it was. Anyways, I don't think a lot of people would expect tiny pre-adolescent girls to attack them."

"I'm older than you." She declared.

"Oh?" he shot back. "When's your birthday? Mine's July 15th."

"Then mine's July 14th!"

"Hey, not fair." Ichigo protested, shifting his position so that the sun didn't glare directly into his eyes, "You can't make it up! When's your real one?"

"You are too annoying," she sighed, and faced away. Left unsaid was the fact that the girl herself did not know of her own birthday.

"You can't even answer the simplest questions! Are you stupid?"

"No…I simply don't bother with retarded people."

"…" Ichigo rolled his eyes and let the subject drop. "Are you really that interested in joining the dance team here?"

"Well, of course. I wouldn't have gone through all the trouble in coming from Rukongai just to have a simple look around, would I have?" Rukia abruptly closed her mouth, hoping that he wouldn't catch her blunder.

"So you're from Rukongai?" His eyes lit up and turned to face her. "I'm from Karakura, the town next to it!"

"I'm… I meant that my hotel was in Rukongai," she recovered with a tale. "I'm stopping there solely to view Wilford."

"Hmm, I see," Ichigo mused with a look that clearly said that he didn't believe her. "So you're staying at the Parakeet Parlor?"

"Yes," she said without flinching.

He reached out and grabbed her small wrist. "Liar," he breathed. "The only hotel in Rukongai is the Ishida Inn!"

Rukia sat still on the ledge, all the blood drained from her pale enough face. She hadn't thought that the huge monkey would have the mental capacity to test her.

"Really, just who are you?"

"Geez, Ginger," she stood up slowly and backed away, "first you ask for my birthday, and now you are trying to find out where I live? If I didn't know better, I would have assumed you were trying to hit on me."

"Don't flatter yourself." Ichigo found his eyes unvoluntarily rolling themselves in exasperation. "Answer me."

Skirting the question, she scouted the route ahead."Anyways, I think I see my stop up around the bend. Is that it?"

"Yeah," he said unwillingly. "Don't change the subject."

Ignoring him purposely, she got ready to leave and checked the contents of her folder. "I heard the instructor here is really great."

Ichigo had heard that too. "That's why it's going to be really hard to audition into the school if you want to be a dancer. Give it up, kid. You'd do better just to attend the local high school. You'd get along just peachy with the delinquents. You stick out like a sore thumb around these parts."

Oh, Ichigo's got her feathers ruffled now. "Oh really. It's the first time I've gotten lectured to about blending in from a punk with bleached hair. Anyways, I'm all the more determined now that you've voiced your doubt in me. Well, ta ta, Ginger. I believe I see the Gymnasium."

Ichigo muttered a quiet thanks to god under his breath.

"I'll be seeing you around come Fall!"

"And the Empties will leave Rukongai alone!" (Here used as an expression akin to "And pigs will fly!")

Rukia hoped off the still moving trolley and waved back at a retreating Ichigo. "I'm sure they will! Someone will take care of that."

Ichigo watched her bound up the Dance Academy's steps two at a time and shook his head. Weirdos these days. Wilford was the best high school around, and no way they were going to accept her, regardless of dancing capabilities or not. And even if she was as good as she implied, the confident girl was odd enough that they wouldn't let her enroll.

He waited until the trolley round back to his stop where he got off, humming a little tune, quite content with the thought of never seeing that noisy little bitch again.

After all, it was the start summer vacation, and he was planning to thoroughly enjoy himself before Wilford opened again in the fall.

Poor Ichigo. Little did he know of what awaited him come September 1st.

* * *

Well, you made it through the first chapter. That wasn't so bad, was it? -sweatdrop-

Yeah. So, if you missed these thing:

1. Rukia was sneaking around to find either: the principal's office (for other reasons besides the most obvious one, revealed in chapter two) and the dance Gymnasium.

2. A lot is centered upon the 'Empties' and 'the Society' in this story, and their roles will be elaborated the coming chapters.

3. Wilford is mostly composed of middle class students who had great talent, (thus the archery club, karate stadium, and the dance gym), but a great portion of Wilford's attendees are wealthy children.

Bon the look out for other important Bleach characters! -wink-

**REVIEW. kthx. :3**


	2. The Start of A Dream

Sorry if this chapter is a bit slow… it's here for a purpose, though! It explains about Rukia's mysterious circumstances and introduces the Society, which is a major point in this weird story. xD There's a slight bit of RenRuki in here, so you can't complain of no romance.

Disclaimer: Bleach is really creative and awesome. So there's two reasons why I wasn't the one who came up with it. :)

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Rukia returned home that night thoroughly exhausted. The meeting between her and Sode no Shirayuki had gone well, and the dance trainer had guaranteed Rukia an auditioning spot on August 25th. Rukia found the older woman nice enough, for she had a pacifying air about her that made Rukia strangely comfortable. After all, if she was going to do her best at the audition, it helped a tremendous amount that she was at ease and able to function at her zenith. 

She smiled a soft smile and tiptoed past the pale shoji doors where she was almost sure that her adoptive brother was sitting, probably poring over some mundane piece of paper work, as always.

Rukia had almost reached her own room when Kuchiki Byakuya, sixth division captain of the Society, appeared behind her.

"Good evening, Byakuya Nii-sama," Rukia bowed, eyes fixed on the floor below her feet. "I hope I did not disrupt you from your work."

"You did not," was the curt reply. "Did you manage to obtain the papers from Ryuken Ishida?"

"Yes," Rukia said, placing four sheets of carefully wrapped papers into her brother's outstretched hands. "I even got the opportunity to arrange for my possible enrollment into Wilford's next year. When he went to get the necessary forms, I hacked into his computer and printed those out."

Kuchiki Byakuya nodded, but no more. He was very sparring with praise, even though he had pushed the assignment onto Rukia at the minute…on her off day too. He was pleased, though he didn't waste any effort for trivial displays of emotion.

"Very well. Was the mission completed with any difficulties? The twelfth department is busy nowadays, but I'm sure that a memory clearing can be arranged."

Rukia beamed on the inside, glad to be useful. "Everything went smoothly. I made sure to debug the inner office while I was there, so there should be no surveillance tapes for them to use as evidence, provided they even suspect me. And…well, except for a minute incident with a student, there was nothing that can betray the Society."

Byakuya had taken Rukia in almost six years ago, when she had been wandering Rukongai like many of the other children. Now, she was nothing like the wild child she had been back then. (Byakuya obviously didn't see Rukia maltreating Ichigo.) He saw more and more of demure Hisana in Rukia everyday, and he paid a silent tribute to his deceased wife.

"If you'll excuse me, then…" Rukia made for her room, where the comfort of her bed and various dance CDs awaited her.

"Rukia."

She turned and then lowered her eyes respectfully, awaiting her brother's orders.

"There is another Empty I'll need you to take care of. He's number 224, an official under one of the biggest Empties here. He has been terrorizing the Niwa region since early June last year and had escaped our notice for quite sometime. I think we ought to reward him with a visit." He reached inside his shihakushō and retrieved the assignment intricacies. "The address is in there."

Rukia flipped through the files quickly. "Understood. So, an injection of Compound 1080?"

Byakuya almost smirked. "Why waste such poison on scum? I cannot reverse the council's order, but you, as a subordinate, can do as you see fit."

So Rukia knew that Byakuya didn't deem the offending Empty worthy enough, and had hinted at other methods of termination. Well, if that's what he wanted, she would have to comply.

"Captain Ukitate has told me to pass this mission on to you, so do not fail us both."

"Hai." Rukia bowed again and sought permission to leave.

The stolid man gave reached into his gargantuan sleeves again. Another assignment? Rukia groaned. She was already going to miss her Art job with the 224 case…

"Rukia, the Society cannot be bothered with your effort to enter Wilford. All the proceeds from the Empties are returned to the towns, so the Society is not wealthy. Seeing as I am your kin, I am obliged to help you with your funding. Though the Society is your main aim, I realize that your duties are restricting your fund for your tuition. Take this note in compensation of your times spent for the Society and cash it in at the Society bank." And seeing Rukia opening her mouth to say that he didn't really have to, he cut in, "And do not thank me. I only request that you repeat the Society's creed before you rest, and reflect carefully on the mistake you made today at Wilford, however minute the case."

"Thank you," Rukia said, and stepped softly into her room. Byakuya left with a swish of his robes.

Inside her pale lavender bedroom, she first took a key from a chain on her neck and opened up a locked box on her table. It was her Wilford tuition box, and she was adding to it everyday. She stuffed the bank note in there, as well as the other signature sheets she'd gotten during the day.

She was almost there, to the point that she would have enough to pay for one year's tuition. Rukia sighed and wiggled out of her street clothes. It had taken her so long to save up, juggling the Society's missions and training sessions with her other odd jobs to earn money. Well, one summer more, and she would be there. The Society didn't pay minors, it just gave them a decent education in self-defense and fighting, poison handling classes, the best systems of logistics and government workings, and food and board. Of course, it was more than she could ask for, seeing as how the rest of Rukongai suffered.

Even though she had been brought up to devote herself solely to the Society, Rukia had, unintentionally, fallen in love with something else.

----_Flashback_----

One day on a practice trip to a western district with Captain Ukitate, they had finished accomplished their goal early, and the Captain's students, young and somewhat curious, had been poking around the deserted mansion. Rukia, as always, had wandered off with Renji, her friend even before Society days, a little too far from the crowd, and had sufficiently gotten themselves lost in the huge house.

They wound themselves up in a small side room, and with one look at it's cheerfully pink walls, they knew that they were in a girl's bedroom. Since part of the Society's command was to retrieve as many valuables as they could, Renji made straight for the regally crested music box that was perched on the ledge of the vanity.

He calculated correctly, for there were a small heap of precious stones in there, no doubt a gift from the man that their captain had just eliminated. Renji was about to toss the box unceremoniously into their knapsack, but Rukia stopped him.

"Here, let me see it."

He frowned in impatience, causing the black tattoos on his head to wrinkle with him.

"Rukia, we're already late, and we're not supposed to touch the stuff we find for the Society, remember?"

But Rukia kept on looking at the peony colored box wistfully, not saying anything.

Renji finally shook his head and gave in. "I never thought you'd be the type of person for jewels, Rukia."

"It's not the stones, Renji. Let me just wind the box up once."

Said friend hastily pulled the repulsive (Renji-Vision) pink music maker out again, and placed it gently on Rukia's outstretched hands. The large container was twice as big as her palms, and Renji had to help her wind it up.

Soft, delicate music chimed along with the vibrating velvet. Rukia stood, entranced, in the middle of a stranger's room, letting the notes ebb through her frame.

The effect was ruined when Renji opened his big fat mouth. "You know, I thought you'd be less girly than that."

"Oh be quiet," she hissed absentmindedly. "But say, what is that little figurine called?"

Renji's eyes bugged out in disbelief. "You mean a ballet dancer?"

"Is that what she's called?"

"Well, duh. But I guess I can't expect you to know everything, Little Miss Know-it-all. We both had a rocky childhood, neh?"

The corner of Rukia's lips lifted up infinitesimally. Rocky was an understatement, but having someone there by your side through it all made the ordeals a lot more bearable.

"How do you know what it is?" She set the dainty toy on even daintier, eyelet sheets, and turned to Renji.

"I think my mother had one." Was all he said.

"Hmm."

Rukia's hand caught an upright string corner of the box, and she quickly pulled at it.

"Look Renji! The secret pully thing was hiding these shoes!"

"Ballet shoes, huh?"

Rukia's eyes shone with a quiet intensity. "They're so soft and…" The satin slippers were burning in Rukia's hands, and she ran her fingers up and down the sides. "Wouldn't it be nice if I could dance like the ballet dancer and wear these shoes?"

Rukia never ceased to surprise Renji. Whether it was like last time, when Rukia had spotted a bully on the streets and socked him in the face for taking a child's candy or getting deathly afraid of thunder, she was an unreadable book. However, Renji understood her this time. Her eyes weren't fixated upon the sparkling lapis lazulis and emeralds in the box. They were instead devouring the shoes with her heart.

Renji merely grunted and cleared his throat loudly.

"Okay, I'm going to turn my back now and count to ten. When I turn back around, I'll forget everything about seeing a music box, along with a certain pair of slippers."

Rukia grinned and shook out the unnecessary jewels and hid her new belongings. "Done."

"Um, Renji, how will we tell the Society about the jewels?"

Renji eyed her confusedly. "What do you mean?"

"They would assume that these would have come with a container…and that the container would have been costly too."

"We'll just say we found them somewhere."

Rukia stared at Renji as if he had turned into a baboon with a snake on it's tail (something he did not appreciate, by any means), and said in an annoyingly high voice, "What, that we'll tell them, 'oh, yeah, Captain Ukitate, we randomly spotted a small fortune in gems just laying around somewhere!'?"

"Hey," he sniffed indignantly, "it's not my problem that a certain person had a sudden fancy for a music box."

Rukia smiled and acquiesced. "That's right. Thanks, Renji", she said, hugging him lightly around the waist, (partly because she couldn't reach any higher). "Thanks a bunch."

The boy blushed as red as his hair and looked down. The ground suddenly looked very interesting. He quickly recovered and moved out of the bedroom, knowing that he'd never live it down if Hisagi or Kira discovered him like that.

"Still, who would have ever suspected that the noble Kuchiki Rukia would resort to petty thievery?"

Rukia smacked him on the head, all traces of former tenderness gone. "Well, that's funny. I do think I recall a certain 13th divisioner aiding me in my crimes…"She turned on her heels, face gravely serious. "Besides, that's technically what the Society does, isn't it?"

"That's totally different, Rukia, and you know it." Renji led her down a thickly carpeted hall that Rukia was quite sure they had passed along already. "And no one member keeps anything from themselves."

"And how would you know?" She stared through him, "It's not like I don't know where you got the template and die for your tattoos, Renji. And…" she nudged him as he was trying to edge left, "And we've already tried that direction, dummy!"

"Pshaw," he snickered, "We have not. We haven't seen that painting before." He turned back to face her and added, "You have no proof of anything."

The tiny girl jumped onto the only couch in the dim chamber and read the plaque underneath. "I might not have evidence that you've taken stuff outside of the Society's orders, but one thing I do know for sure. We've definitely passed this room before. I remember making a point of the name of this artist of this portrait the last time we came around this corner. It hasn't changed," she remarked haughtily.

Not willing to settle for defeat, Renji sprang up hotly, saying, "If you're so brilliant, why don't you lead the way?"

"Watch me!" Screeched Rukia.

Ten minutes later, a smug Rukia had dragged Renji's sulky form into the mansion's main living room, where the rest had congregated.

* * *

That was five years ago. The violet box still lay upon Rukia's counter. And despite Renji's never ceasing protests against her taking ballet, he never failed to show up at any of Rukia's performances even once.

She smiled at the memory and lay on her back in her bunny pajamas.

A tangy night breeze wafted through the shutters, and Rukia complemented herself on a successful day not only for the Society, but also for her own personal reasons. She pulled her covers up and suppressed a yawn.

"_I must obey the Society._

_The Society is all, for justice through all means is necessary. _

_Mistakes are the bane to existence, and we must obliterate them. _

_I can forget my flaws with the Society, because the Society is closest to perfection._

_If the doubt of the Society ever arises, I will not let that mistrust be the cause for my obliteration._

_I will let it pass through me and only I, not the doubt, will survive. _

_The Society and its higher values may be challenged, and thus has to be protected. I will ensure that with my every will. _

_May the Society guide me through my destined path_."

And thus she repeated four times and slept.

* * *

The last mantra is loosely based on the Bene Gesserit's creed in Dune, by Frank Herbert. It's really good…so I suggest you read it if you are into Sci-Fi. 

If the Society is still confusing, I'll be sure to include some more footnotes the next chapter. (Which I have halfway written already.)


	3. Of Speculations and Warnings

Disclaimers: I don't own Bleach. It's way too cool to be owned by me. :D

This chapter goes into deeper detail the stuff of the Society and you'll see some familiar faces. I swear the next chapter will have Rukia and Ichigo bickering in no time. (I have it written...partly xD)

* * *

**Of Speculations and Warnings**

Number 224 had been an unusually weak and feeble man. It was a wonder to Rukia as to how he managed to manipulate a whole village's crop production for a year, let alone manage to work five peasants to death. Well, what's done is what's done, she thought, and she examined the room once again before placing the trademark ribbon with the number '13' written in script sewn onto it over the dead man's face.

She had wiped off all the excess blood and gore with excruciating attention to detail (something the Society never required, but Rukia had always made it a habit of somewhat respecting ones opponent after punishing them) and then heaved a sigh. In her earlier days at the Society, she had been uneasy about killing the Society's enemies, even though she had first been extremely honored when they chose her and only four other people to graduate early from its academy. But, at times like after she killed, she would always recite line one and two from the Society's creed. "_I must obey the Society._

_The Society is all, for justice through all means is necessary._ "

She left when she was sure she had covered all her traces, and only then did she return to the Society's head quarters and consider it a job well done.

* * *

The Society's main complex was very unattractive and plain. The entrance was hidden under its pretense of being an innocent, abandoned warehouse, such as were many like it in Rukongai. A few depressed shrubs managed to seep through the dusty ground near the warehouse, but nothing more indicated at any sign of life by the dilapidated entrance. 

Inside was another matter. Beyond the first creaky stairwell was a well concealed door with creaky hinges. The room it guarded held a fingerprint sensitive identifier. The control room adjacent to it always had at least two officers on duty to ensure the validity of an incomer, though the job was always loathed due to the lack of intruders (which is a good thing…).

It was through this security measure that Rukia walked, quickly pressing her fingers onto the pad to enter. She shed her uniform for 'jobs' in the next room, for the uniform consisted of a very clingy material highly specialized by the 12th division to have an almost chameleon-esque effect. Those suits were the main reason why the populace commonly referred to the Society as "Death gods": they were rarely seen and delivered peace and stability to the people because they destroyed corrupt, heartless (thus the name Empty) officials who monopolized the poor.

Rukia donned a casual skirt and adjusted her hair in the mirror (on which some cocky member had engraved '_only Matsu-chan's objects are the only ones as big as they appear_') so it didn't appear like she'd just gotten up from a bad case of bed head. She was walking through the brightly lit reception hall when…

"Rukia-chaaan!"

A familiar voice rang out behind her. "Over here!"

Rukia did a one hundred eighty degree turn and found herself face to face with Momo Hinamori, a pretty if not easily excitable 5th divisioner.

"'Morning, Hinamori." Rukia gestured with a smile at the obviously energetic girl.

"Anything new? I've been out of the HQ for two days."

"Well…" Hinamori chewed at her lip, "not really…"

But Rukia could tell that she was dying to say something. She ignored the persistent voice in her head that kept on reminding her about her jobs and instead she prodded Hinamori on with a look.

"Ok, so maybe something did occur!" She stopped her squealing, lest she looked too eager. "I mean, well, nothing that really concerns us, but you know how Kaori-dono had retired last month? Shiro-chan had been appointed to take his place!"

"Sh-Shiro-chan?" Rukia weakly muttered. "Who's that?"

The temperature in the normally warm room dropped a few degrees.

"Hinamori fukutaicho, it's improper for me to constantly reprimand you, but you just can't seem to get it into that thick skull of yours that it's Captain Hitsugaya now." An imposing boy (Or man, as he would insist) with snow colored hair joined them at Hinamori's left side. (And, no, the snow was not the one referred to at that time when Renji had been dared to take a tinkle in the wilderness)

He stood with an annoyed expression on his face, with his arms across his chest. "Besides my proper title, Hinamori Fukutaicho got the rest of the information correct."

"Isn't it great?" Hinamori gushed on, ignoring 'Shiro-chan''s icy tone, "He skipped being a fukutaicho altogether! I was planning on being fukutaicho with him, but it's even better now that he's a Captain." She snuck a glance at the bored looking prodigy. "Right, Shiro-chan?"

A vein on Hitsugaya's head twitched. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

Rukia smiled despite herself. "Is Captain Shiro-chan better?"

Hitsugaya shot her a chilly glare that gave Rukia the creeps. She almost forgot that while the white haired captain would never lay a hand on Hinamori, he would be quite willing to demonstrate his harsh prowess on some unfortunate victim. "Er…Congratulations. Uh, I'll be leaving now…"

Rukia turned around to leave, only to be held back by a newcomer.

An attractive woman with strawberry blonde hair had draped one of her arms around Rukia's shoulders, and the other one dangled atop Hitsugaya's head.

"Howdy, Rukia-chan. Don't you think Hitsugaya-kun's _(to which an offended Hitsugaya protested) _highly new position complements his hot-air filled head?"

And despite the namecallings and slight tensions, everybody was quite content with one another. All had, with the exception of Hitsugaya, forged memories from their days together at the Society Academy, and were glad to take a reprieve from their duties with some light hearted banter.

"So are you going to celebrate tonight?" inquired Rukia, her hand resting easily atop a marble counter. "It's not everyday you get elected to be a captain."

"Well, of course he is. Correction," Matsumoto interrupted herself, and pretended to shove up imaginary glasses up her nose, much like Nanao-chan, the eighth division vice captain, "I am too!"

Rukia looked on with a slightly puzzled expression. "Umm…don't you have prefect duties by Northern Karakura district tonight?"

Matsumoto swelled up with pride and a suspenseful silence ensued. "I've been promoted to Vice Captain position!"

Following that, she reached out effortlessly and roped in some unfortunate being from the tenth division. "Oy, you. How do you feel about taking over my old, obsolete job of watching North Karakura? Yeah? Got it? I know, you don't have to thank me. Tell all your little friends that I, Matsumoto Fukutaicho, have a plethora of odd-jobs they can have, so they won't be jealous of you!"

Hinamori giggled at the one-sided exchange and hid her smile behind her hand. Hitsugaya scowled disapprovingly on the side, with his arms crossed again.

"You know, Vice captains are supposed to express some measure of self-restraint. That means no abusing your position."

"Tch, you worry too much, Hitsugaya-kun. That Society member eagerly accepted my gracious offer. Besides, I told him who I was, so if he wanted other opportunities, he can conveniently find me. So I really don't see what you are talking about."

"Matsumoto Fukutaicho," the Captain addressed her severely. "The poor soul was _shaking_."

Matsumoto shrugged carelessly. "A side effect of my imposing new start as a formidable and totally unsurpassed Vice Captain! Let us all drown our laughter in sake today, at my place!"

Despite her apparently flippant attitude towards her new job, Rukia knew that Matsumoto was going to take her position very seriously. After all, Matsumoto had scored as number three in their class, one spot above Rukia. It was then, at the Society Academy, that Matsumoto had fallen prey to alcohol due to her constant preparations for exams and whatnot. The 'endowed' vice captain had not been much of a talker back in the days, and it was only when soft spoken Isane had invited her to the girls' lunch group that she had loosened up. And though Matsumoto's silence had disappeared, her dependence on sake still lingered. Nevertheless, if there were any positive influences of alcohol, it was that it kept Matsumoto in a jovial state almost daily, and that it irritated her captain to no end.

To Rukia, alcohol was the provider of an almost never ending source of entertainment, so she never complained or held her busty friend back as she went to have a go at the stuff, because her protests would have fallen on deaf ears anyhow.

Rukia shook her head softly and placed a hand on Matsumoto's shoulder. "Sorry, really. I have my jobs tonight, and besides, I have duty after that. Congrats on legitimately weaseling out of patrol duty forever."

Hitsugaya, (who had by then, successfully calmed Hinamori down), had a semblance of a smug grin on his face. "Know what she gets instead?"

Hinamori brought out a stack of papers behind her back. "Office work, just like I do for Yoruichi-san everyday!" The cheerfulness with which she exclaimed that seemed inhuman.

"Errr…why can't some subordinate do it?" Matsumoto whined. "A Vice Captain should be to handle more pressing things."

"Just be glad you've been honored to hold a position," Rukia thoughtfully wound a strand of raven hair in her hands. "You have proved yourself."

Despite all her hard work, Rukia was not at any elevated position. Though her age might have bared her from a spot, the fact that Hitsugaya, who was around 15, and Hinamori, who was 16, like herself, had risen to such levels didn't help give Rukia's ego any boost. A consoling part of her brain told her that even if she had been selected for a high office in the Society, her preoccupation with ballet and her now almost-confirmed enrollment in Wilford would have left her no time for the job. Still, she couldn't stop herself from wishing…

Hinamori wasn't a complete airhead. (Though Hitsugaya would beg to differ otherwise.) And just because she wasn't as observant as others in matters of the Society didn't mean that she wouldn't notice when one of her closest friends was down. She chose that moment to leap at Rukia, an action which promptly made the far away look in her eyes disappear.

"Geez, Rukia," Hinamori gently chided, "everyone knows that you only didn't get a spot because a certain someone kept on interfering with your promotions! I mean, if I could get a spot, then you should have gotten one doubly ahead of me!"

"Thanks." Rukia smiled a genuine smile and her mind was a bit more eased. "It isn't all Byakuya-sama's doing, you know."

"Pfft," snorted Matsumoto, leaning on a reception desk, "that old bahhumbug man wouldn't loosen his grip on Rukia in a hundred years. Remember that time on the fieldtrip to the crayfish factory? He self-declared himself a chaperone even though Ukitake Taicho had specifically said that there was already adult supervision. Not to mention," she rolled her eyes, "that he insisted he was going even though he knew full well that he was allergic to shelled fish."

Rukia recalled very well. They had to cancel the whole thing and rush the dignified/unnecessary chaperone to the nearest clinic in Karakura town, and immediately after being treated, Byakuya-sama had left without a word. Many speculated that the event was because of his wounded pride, but pride or not, Rukia had been humiliated.

"Well, he might be a little protective," she grudgingly admitted. "I'm fortunate though."

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow but said commented no further on that.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "It's already 12 o'clock, and the garments department is sure to go to lunch soon. I have to get going and receive my new shihakushō (1) before that happens."

"I'll go with you," Hinamori volunteered suddenly, "so you won't get lost."

The white-haired prodigy squinted at the girl in disbelief. "Hinamori, I've only been living in the Society complex for all my life."

Rukia smirked behind her hands while Rangiku Matsumoto openly laughed at Hinamori's concealed (or not so much) blush.

"I meant, I…I could go with you since I had finished my chores today…"

"Argh, all right, tag along if you want to, Bed Wetter Momo."

"It's funny how _quickly_ you acquiesced," Matsumoto remarked in a seemingly innocent manner. "You know, I'm getting a faint suspicion of something…"

Hitsugaya shot his vice captain a venomous look and muttered something about extra paperwork under his breath before stalking away. He didn't get very far.

"Hitsugaya-kun…"

"What now, Hinamori?" He groaned without looking at her.

Hinamori, with large black eyes deadly serious, whirled in front of him and squeaked, "Are you sure they make shihakushōs(1) in children's extra small?"

The whole room could hear the jarring sound of the tenth division captain's teeth gnashing together. He breathed in deeply and gestured at his subordinate with an effort.

"Matsumoto, I'm going to get my uniform, and you should do so later, too. May the Society guide us through our destined paths."

"Yes, may the Society guide us through our destined paths," Rukia and Matsumoto replied in unison to the standard farewell greeting.

With that, he and Hinamori left through a side door.

Their friends having gone, Matsumoto requested Rukia to walk with her in the Society park. She had agreed quickly, despite the now dire urgency of her waiting job.

Outside in the sweet scented air, the friends' blinked on instinct to the immediate rays of sunlight. The Society park was founded by some unknown benefactor some ten years ago, and, compared to the rest of the Society's main, chrome colored functioning center, was a beautiful convergence of gardening and recreation. A wooden play structure, with its well-worn silver slide, was the centerpiece, surrounded calm bushes and various plant life surrounding it.

It was around here that the two walked, Rukia contemplating her needed efforts to prove herself to Sode no Shirayuki, her new dance supervisor, and the other staying uncharacteristically silent.

Finally, after a round about the park, Matsumoto spoke up.

"I know you are all about the rules, Rukia, and it may seem like a breach of Society policy to tell you this, but I can't just let you go unknowing."

"Oh?" Rukia walked to a dangling swing and sat down, face perplexed. "What's this?"

The tall woman had an inner debate with conscience and dedication to the Society. Loyalty to her friend worn out, and she dropped onto another seat, sighing.

"At the Vice captain's meeting today, we were informed to increase security around the Wilford campus. I think the Captains and the heads are planning something soon."

"That doesn't concern me…"

"…And they were talking about new test subjects placed into Wilford."

"Surely they don't mean-"

The unspoken question lingered in the air.

"I'm worried for you, Rukia." She said. "You know that the Society never lets its members out of the Center unless its for family emergencies or missions. What would have propelled them to allow you to attend a rich school that many children of Empties attend?"

Rukia saw the sense in that, but the stubborn (and readily apparent) edge of her wouldn't acknowledge it.

"They wouldn't use me to that extent! Besides, I've already promised to juggle Society duties on the side. I don't think the people that I have to kill have a fervent preference as to what times they want to be killed. So my Society missions will occur after dark. So what? Heavens knows that I won't ever betray the Society."

"Still," Matsumoto reasoned forcefully, "I just don't think it's likely that they would sacrifice one of their best assassins to an enemy camp."

The black haired girl opened her mouth to protest, but instead poked at the sand below her with her shoes. "Maybe it's Byakuya-sama's influence that let -"

"Rukia, look at me. The Society would never do anything that isn't to its benefit, and even if means sacrificing a member unintentionally in the process. One of the reasons I was picked for Vice Captain is because I know that fact, and I respect it along with the general purpose that the Society is striving to achieve. Repeat after me. There is no way that they would willingly let you go wandering into a school practically reeking of future Empties. There has to be a catch."

Rukia leapt off the swing and tried to think reasonably. "One youth I met there had enough mettle to incite the whole of the mellow fourth division. He wasn't Empty material, I assure you. I'm sure the rest of the school isn't cut out for Empty duty, either."

She met Matsumoto's cobalt eyes in and saw the uncertainty in them.

"I will take care of myself anyhow, Matsumoto. As Hinamori said, I'm very capable and I have sense. I would never endanger myself anymore than necessary, and that is to say, whenever I'm not out risking my ass for the Society anyways. Even if I die or whatever, it's all for the Society, neh? We live solely for it."

Rukia's companion sighed. "Well, I'll speak no more of it, but just be on the look out, okay?"

"I'm not that stupid as to let my guard down, Matsumoto…"

"Who knows," the blonde teased, regaining former vitality. "Speaking of people letting their guard down, what do you think of Toushiro-chan?"

Rukia chuckled knowingly, stepping softly from the slide she was occupying to free it so that a boy could toddle down. She caught the child by his arms and set him down to the ground before replying.

"I get what you mean. And I approve of him."

"Ahh, yes," Matsumoto chimed, "despite his being a grump, he is quite…perfect for Hinamori. Afterall, summertime is the vile season that enslaves hearts and sets them on the neverending quest to seek out eternal love!"

"If that's love," Rukia snorted, "then I sure don't want it to happen to me."

Matsumoto wagged an accusing finger at Rukia. "Now now, don't decry it before you've actually tried it, m'dear."

Rukia raised one perfectly arched eyebrow and declined curtly. "I've been too close to it for comfort before, and it really isn't worth it."

The blonde's eyes softened and she remember, probably, of the time _he_ was alive.

"Maybe it will be kinder for you next time."

Swatting her rebellious strands of hair from her face in act of dismissal, Rukia said," The best thing love can do is to steer clear of my way."

Matsumoto laughed throatily and walked off. "Be careful, hun, it may sneak up and bite you in the butt before you know it!"

Rukia shook her head determinedly and waved goodbye to her friend. "Not in a million years! May the Society guide us on our destined paths!"

She lingered around the park for a few minutes more, contemplating what Matsumoto had said. Despite her dire warnings about the proceedings at Wilford, Rukia was most spooked of the notion of the latter point of conversation. Rukia and love were two words that don't mix. In fact, love was one that she never hoped to hear again.

* * *

(1) Captain's Robes

Wooot! Rukia's past will come into play!

I hope you guys sorta understand the whole Society deal now. Rukongai and Karakura town (which lie side by side in this little odd AU) are two districts that the Society plays gaurdian angel over. Of course, the Society's eliministic ways aren't the best that could be done in dealing with greedy government officials, but they are all the people have besides the almost nonexistent police force.

So, Aizen and Gin and that other dude (I know, I'm bad with forgetting names) won't play an important role here, though I have 13 captain spots. Should I keep them and pretend they're nice and friendly or should I sub people into spots? I already have Yoruichi as the 5th Captain...suggestions are welcome.

I've figured out the villain in this! I truly did. It's going to be revealed at the very end, so keep your eyes peeled. The person's not obvious...

Ichigo's going to dread the next chapter! -dun dun dun-


	4. Class 2B in Full Swing!

Hey, welcome to Chapter Four! At the end of this, I will have a little Omake (which I believe means extra) IchiRuki thing at the end. I've decided to do this for all my shorter chapters...either an omake scene or a sneak preview. This one's an Omake.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. Tite Kubo has the happy right of that.

**Chapter 4**

Hanatarou, the junior janitor, was dutifully sweeping the oddly silent halls of Wilford. In less than three hours, the school's inhabitants would be pouring in through each of the four mahogany doors that fed to the school. He sighed and leaned his broom on a wall.

Another school year was starting, and Hanataro mused that thought to himself. That heralded forth a new accumulation of gum under the desks primarily associated with the baseball wing of the school, more bathroom duties, and even possibly, though his meek little heart never even once hoped to utter the word, _friends_.

* * *

Ichigo Kurosaki stormed out of his house. After Keigo's insistence last night, he had been unwillingly persuaded to join in a little 'let's fool around the day before school starts' recreational party under the pretense that Keigo needed help with his schedule. But once at Keigo's house, the brown haired boy had refused to let his friend leave.

So he was still sleepy, behind schedule, and wore his uniform slightly ruffled. It was his trademark appearance for school, as even when he lived on Wilford, he would always find ways of 'outwitting' his alarm clock so that he would manage to just barely make it on time to class.

This morning was no different, even though it was the first day of a new year (he was still quite some distance from Wilford, because he normally lived on campus). Sophomore year was bound to be a lot more interesting than freshman, he had reasoned, and that thought had propelled him through the door, despite his father's half-hearted attempts to maim his son. The newsletter for Wilford students had requested a generic list of needed items for the year, but at the end, the activities committee had dropped a hint of an exciting new event that was to take place a month into the first semester.

With that in mind, he set off on foot towards the illustrious Wilford campus, waving goodbye to his family in front of their clinic.

* * *

Rukia was lost in the bright blues and rich rues of color that swirled every which way around her. Ten minutes into her first day at a normal high school, and she was already lost. Again. Not to say that Wilford was normal, by anymeans. Any school where they can afford to have chocolate koi fish waterfountains cannot be considered 'normal'.

Amidst the chatter going on, all of the students around her seemed to disregard her presence, and they each walked purposely, at brisk paces, towards their natural homerooms. Nobody noticed her standing absolutely hopeless in the middle of the square. True, this time she was dressed to the occasion, but her unobtrusiveness was a bit unnerving.

She moved clumsily, grumbling incoherently to herself while carrying a big cumbersome tote containing all her dance paraphernalia. The paper she was scrutinizing held some obscure drawing supposedly representing the layout of the school. Rukia had had close contact with one of its brethren before, and that had come to dangerous results. So she stood in the middle of the square, having given up slightly on finding her homeroom in time. She settled on, instead, seeing if the paper would burn up or at least slightly get crisped if she glared at it long enough.

Suddenly, someone approached her from the behind.

"Hello, Miss. Are you a new student here?"

Rukia spun around and found her face to face with a girl with orange hair. The cheery sunlight of September flashed against her face, blinding her slightly. "Matsumoto-chan?"

"No, no, I think you have me confused with someone else," the red head explained hastily, extending her hand. "My name is Inoue Orihime, nice to meet you!"

Rukia shook the proffered hand firmly and smiled. "My name is Kuchiki Rukia, and the pleasure is mine. Do you mind showing me where Complex 14 is? My homeroom is somewhere near there."

Orihime took Rukia's transcript from her to examine the homeroom number. The girl's crystalline grey eyes widened with pleasure and she called out to her friend nearby. "Oh, Tatsuki-chan! We have a new student in our homeroom!"

A tough looking girl made her way over to them with a bag swung casually over her shoulders. "That so?" she asked. "Which department are you in? Or are you a spoiled?"

"Spoiled?" Rukia questioned. She set down her heavy bag with a grimace. "I'm here for dancing…"

The black haired girl named Tatsuki let out a satisfied 'aha' and smiled, the originally suspicious hitch above her eyebrows having softened. It reminded Rukia a bit of another person, but at that moment, she didn't recall who it was.

"See, I was wondering if you were a specialized student, you know, sent for your capabilities, or mainly a normal richie who just got sent here because of their parents. Anyhow, I'm Arisawa Tatsuki, Class 2-B, in the same homeroom you are in. Orihime, my friend, is here for her skill in craftsmanship and academics, and I'm here for karate."

Ichigo, she suddenly remembered. That's whom she couldn't think of. That kid that also took karate.

Orihime respectfully tugged at Rukia's sleeve. "Let's get going soon, okay, Rukia-chan? We don't want to be late to our class…Nekai-sensei tends to get scary when someone comes in late…"

Rukia warmed at the familiarity Orihime used, and found that making friends wouldn't be that impossible that year. She was glad, and within three minutes, wound up at the classroom that would later hold so many memories for them.

* * *

Ichigo rushed his way to his classroom, panting. A few stragglers were still outside, but those were mainly the drama punks and richie delinquents. He was peeved. It seemed to him that Karakura town gained a few more twists and turns overnight, and by the time he had arrived at the school, the karate locker rooms had already been locked.

He finally pushed open his perspective door and was about to say something to lighten his sentence when his homeroom teacher stopped her speech and turned to him.

"How nice it is of you to join us today. No matter that you're fifteen minutes late: just by joining us you have graced us with your presence. Well, I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun," the teacher said with content sarcasm, "I'm afraid we had already auctioned off your seat to someone else. She's a new student."

With definite steps, the lithe teacher tapped his former desk and beckoned its new inhabitant to stand up. "Please introduce yourself," Nekai-sensei said.

The student, who had been up till then conversing with a girl one seat over, promptly stood up and bowed quickly. "Good morning, my name is Kuchiki Rukia and I'm very gla-" Her eyes widened and her face crinkled up as if she had just smelled soured milk.

"Ginger?" she yelped in disbelief, "Oh my god…what the heck?"

Upon hearing the not so appreciated nickname, Ichigo was just as dumbfounded (and twice as displeased). "Yo-You, but…I thought-you…" He couldn't find anything to say…at least coherently, so he settled with a bewildered shriek of "What?"

Nekai-sensei and the rest of the class watched the little exchange in silence. The teacher cleared her throat. "Well, it seems like you guys know each other, Kurosaki-kun. In that case, your new seat is next to Kuchiki-chan's."

And as if that wasn't enough..."I've decided that you all will not change seats for the entire year, so please get to know each other."

The teacher sealed their fate.

* * *

Dang, Ichigo's screwed! LOL. I think there's something for me...like those asylums for clinical insane people. Honestly, I don't see how I could be having so much fun torturing Ichigo. Ah me, tis love. Here's the Omake I promised...it's really short.

* * *

_Phone Scenario:_

"Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Ichigo and Rukia. If your name is Byakuya-sama, we're off fighting hollows. If you're one of the guys, be assured that Ichigo's at some wild party you're not. If you're Karin or Yuzu, we've already learned our lessons about multitasking and trying to cook while vacuuming, so please stop worrying. If you're someone from earth, we're in soul society. If you're someone from soul society, we're on earth. If you have no idea what we are talking about, sorry, wrong number, and get ready for your memory to be erased. Good day."

Obviously they have caller ID.

* * *

Yeah. Something random I cooked up. Hope y'all stay till the next update!

Oh, and for record's sake, I have the next two chapters written, but still not proofread throughly enough.

Wanna guess what you'll find? Maybe Ichigo writhing in agony on the ground because of a certain witty, blackhaired girl?

Oh, you sick people. xD You're purely speculating. -cough-

* * *


	5. Of Lunch Proposals and Chappy

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Bleach, but I don't. Life sucks, but I'll deal.

_The student, who had been up till then conversing with a girl one seat over, promptly stood up and bowed quickly. "Good morning, my name is Kuchiki Rukia and I'm very gla-" Her eyes widened and her face crinkled up as if she had just smelled soured milk._

_"Ginger?" she yelped in disbelief, "Oh my god…what the heck?"_

**Chapter 5**

Rukia recovered first and shook her head sweetly. "Oh, no no, Nekai-sensei. I was just surprised by _Kurosaki-kun's_"( she said this in a very forced, high voice), "bright hair color. In no way am I familiar with him."

With a charming little curtsy, she implored Nekai-sensei to believe her. The teacher digested the information thoughtfully, and got a clipboard from her desk. "Well, now it seems complete. Every single student in class 2-B has voiced some sort of opinion on Kurosaki-kun's remarkable hair color in one way or another."

Ichigo's searing hot glare grazed the room. "They what?" Upon second thought, he turned to his odd teacher. "You counted?"

"Why not?" Nekai-sensei shrugged, sitting cross-legged on her desk even though she was in proper attire. "I'm a secretary here when I'm not a homeroom teacher. I keep great statistics, thank you very much."

If Nekai-sensei was like any other girl, Ichigo would have made it a point to thoroughly intimidate her and stare her down enough so that she would become scared. If Nekai-sensei was a boy, he wouldn't have hesitated to give him something to remember him by after class. But seeing how Nekia-sensei was his sensei, he could only futilely plan her demise in his inner mind.

Besides, Nekai-sensei was a force to be reckoned with in her own right. The teacher had once admitted to them that she was in her early thirties, but she looked five years younger. She usually dressed as hip as would most of students on their non-uniform days, if not more fashionable. Their homeroom teacher was also rumored to have an affair with someone outside of Wilford, though she exercised a great deal of control over half the male faculty. With her long locks of dark charcoal colored hair and her teasingly small mouth (with yielded no soft words), she stood at a formidable height, even when off her stilettos.

"Anyhow, please take the seat, Ginger-kun. I do not want to incessantly repeat myself."

Rukia cut in softly, a bit fearful of what would happen if Ichigo was going to sit next to her for an entire year, and spoke up in both of their defenses. "If Kurosaki-kun really doesn't mind, there are seats in the back. Or I wouldn't mind moving, since Orihime-chan forgot that Kurosaki-kun usually occupied this seat…"

Ichigo spotted Orihime and nearly banged his head against the closest vertical object he could find. Orihime shrugged helplessly and her eyes begged forgiveness. Even his kindest friend was inadvertently out to get him.

"Yeah, yeah," Ichigo swallowed and agreed wholeheartedly. "There's a seat between Keigo and Mizuiro, I'll take that one…"

Keigo Asano, of the drama department, who had been vigorously nodding his head when Rukia had suggested that she would move towards the back, started shaking his head furiously. "No, NO!" he mouthed. "Please, no!" As much as he liked bugging the living daylights out of Ichigo, he preferred not to be in close proximity of the orange haired karate champ when he was angry or trapped and cornered, as he now was.

Nekai-sensei saved Keigo. "That's alright, Kurosaki-kun. Sit here next to Kuchiki-chan, please. A pretty girl for a fiery, untamable boy, as they say. Besides, I think you guys do have some history, despite your vehement protests."

"Excuse me, Nekai-sensei…" Orihime started, with a hand propped into the air. "Is that really a saying?"

"What? Oh, the pretty girl and the beast boy thing?" She shrugged. "Who knows? Now it is."

Orihime nodded determinedly and wrote it down in a little notebook, intent on starting the year with a learning streak.

The teacher turned back towards her two recalcitrant students who seemed to be oddly repellent towards each other.

Rukia sweatdropped and decided to give it one last try. She didn't want to seal her fate this early in the year.

Meekly, she said, "Really, it is no trouble, I'll move. It was…my wrong that I took his seat. I really didn't know, and nor do I know him."

"She's right," Ichigo asserted, gripping his bag fiercely, as if if he squeezed it hard enough, his teacher would believe him. "We don't know each other at all!"

"Really. Well, it's time you got acquaintanced, then." Nekai-sensei's dangerous tone held threatening finality, and the class could almost swear that her blue eyes flashed purple. Without further protests, the two gulped and sat down obediently.

The class stayed silent as the fierce teacher prowled the isles, checking the student's supplies and signature forms. She sometimes stopped by a particular desk to inquire a few words about some parents and plans for the year, which she would jot down on her clip board, and then move on. Having marked "_Rukia K :Dance_" and, "_Ryo K :Academics_" down, she spoke to the class from her big desk.

"Okay, we have a couple of new students and a some interesting new class changes from our fellow students. Since today's the first day and no Specifics (being specialty classes) are being held, you may talk amongst yourselves until lunch break. Class will be dismissed an hour afterwards."

All the students let out a collective whoop and immediately people sprung towards each other, eager to catch up with happenings. The classroom was ablaze with a roar of conversation.

"Yo, Ishida," Ichigo called lazily over to a slender boy with glasses, "Are you still in the Archery department or are you joining the Sewing Guild this year?" His voice held a hint of pleasant mockery in it. Really, Ishida might have decided to pursue sewing. Ichigo deemed him strange enough.

The uptight boy shifted his glasses up his nose. "Still in archery." Pause. "The sewing club does not admit men."

"Oh."

"Wait a minute. Does that mean you actually tried out?" Ichigo had one of those gut feelings…

A tinge of pink appeared on Ishida's nose. "No. I merely read the requirements when Orihime-san had them. She is doing that in addition to being an Academic student this year."

"Right…are you sure you didn't apply yourself?"

A pencil swished past and just barely nicked Ichigo's ear. "What the hell, Ishida?"

The archer smiled a rare smile, reclining back into his chair. "Just because I'm in archery doesn't mean my aim isn't good with other, equally _sharp_ objects."

Ichigo yelled his rash little head off at his smug looking friend and then calmed down enough to inquire about his other classmates.

"…Anyhow, have you seen Chad? He's grown even taller…"

* * *

At the other end of the room a desperate debate was going on full-swing.

One Keigo Asano, single high school sophomore, perfectly eligible candidate for your next boyfriend, was whining quite pathetically to the unfortunate victim next to him.

"But Mizuiro," he was crying, "she seems so nice! You have a way with women, Mizuiro! Why can't you use your cunning ways to help your friend out for once, eh? Just once, for the new student! We have to get her before she makes friends, or else we're going to end up like old, grumpy uncle bachelors who get their only consolation from tasteless coffee and-"

"That won't happen," the small boy with black hair said calmly, if albeit disinterestedly. "Besides, don't you always talk about how if you are going to get a girl, that you will be the one to charm her? Come on now, have faith. Give her try at lunch, but not now, while she is with her friends. Anyhow, doesn't she know Ichigo? No? Ah, well. Approach her later and ask her to come eat with us. It's her first day, so she'll probably accept anyone out of discomfort." He ended his speech with a satisfied snap of the wrist and looked at Keigo.

Keigo stared back at him with admiration. "Oh, what wise and venerable words sprout from your lips, Mizuiro! How I long to possess the very secrets you have of bewitching fair maidens! If only I could have the sacred keys that open up a woman's heart…"

"A tip for you, Keigo."

"Ah, yes?"

"Turn off the waterworks. Just a thought."

* * *

At that moment, Orihime and Tatsuki were conversing quite animatedly with Rukia. The three had discovered their passions for the new series of PEZ candy, which came with a new set of mascots. Though Orihime's fondness for the platypus-like animals ("Because they are just so funny, you know?") and Tatsuki's preference of the gruff koala were pretty strong, both admitted defeat to Rukia and her obsession with a certain Chappy Bunny.

Now, the three had progressed on, the PEZ chat having served its purpose as an ice breaker, to other things. The conversation had naturally shifted to the school.

"So…a lot of the kids here are either children of government people…" Rukia mused, carefully pronouncing the latter description for fear of saying 'Empty', "Or they come from overseas for Wilford's prestige?"

"Yep," Orihime confirmed, busy pulling out a shiny card from backpack. "And I think you'll also be needing one of these…an ID card." Rukia vaguely remembered Ichigo showing her his on the trolley ride. "I guess Nekai-sensei forgot to get you one. We'll remind her later."

Rukia said yes to show that she understood, and glanced gratefully at the two friends. She was beyond thankful for their company on this otherwise would-be awkward day. Rukia was used to functioning alone, as the Society disapproved of pair missions (increased possibility of sightings) and solitariness was how she lived her life.

A smile was tugging at the corner of her lips with her thoughts, but Tatsuki's voice brought her back to earth.

"Hey, Rukia, (is it okay to call you that? Yeah? Okay.) Both Orihime and I were brought up in Karakura, so we know that you're tempted to call them Empties. You don't offend us. We're here on scholarships here; Orihime for her crafts, and me for my karate. It's not like we can honestly turn a blind eye on what they do. Heck, we've been affected pretty badly with all the shit that they throw on the regions near here. I guess everyone in Wilford that has relations in Karakura or Rukongai or even Seiretei district has to agree with us."

Rukia marveled inwardly at Tatsuki's frankness while admiring her guts. Not a lot of non-Society members had the confidence and perhaps foolishness to mock the Empties on their turf. "So don't feel like as if you are labeling, 'kay?"

"Alright. That works for me." Rukia turned to Orihime, who was adjusting a pair of sparkly green hair clips in her hair.

"The Empties never seem to get old, neh?" Orihime pondered while pinning her hair into place."There's always so many. When one gets done, there are two more to take its place. I remember a kind teenager that used to help me get my jump ropes untangled if they got stuck in the tree. He was so nice! But hard life in Karakura made him into an Empty by the time he was twenty two. The Death Gods got him when he was twenty four."

Rukia didn't know how to respond to the comment. She hadn't anticipated on Wilford attendees openly discussing Empties or the foundation she herself was a part of. All she could say were formless, generic things.

"I guess…hard conditions make people want. Empties don't turn bad until they get greedy. I know that there are a few uncorrupt officials out there." She didn't dare mention the Society, or Death Gods, as Orihime referred to them.

Tatsuki slammed her fist against her table, causing a pen to wobble off. "Damn right. That's why our parents give so much money to this school. They are sending us here so we can learn and become a better people than the ones that dictate us right now. All of our efforts are in this thing, to straighten this world from this poverty."

"I see…" muttered Rukia, pensive. "Wilford doesn't approve of the rich that much…"

The subject was dropped, and turned mellow once again. There was about fifteen minutes to lunch. Everybody was packing up and getting ready to reserve the best spots on the meadow that was even visible through the classroom window.

"You brought a lunch, Rukia-chan?" Asked Orihime suddenly. "If not, I've made extras."

"I did bring a lunch…" Rukia remembered too late. "And it's at the bottom of my bag!"

She dove under and a second later emerged with a thoroughly squashed bento box. "Wow. The force of gravity at work."

"No kidding!" Tatsuki exclaimed. "What do you keep in there?" She tried lifting Rukia's huge tote with one arm. "Even my karate bag's lighter!"

"Oh, I just had to lug a bunch of CD's with me," Rukia shrugged. "Sode no Shirayuki wanted to see me dance to see if I'd improved any over the summer. I hadn't realized that today wasn't a Specifics day, so I guess it was useless. A locker would have been helpful."

She washed the now depleted bento box off (the classroom even had a fully stocked kitchen nook, dammit!) and returned just as the bell rang.

Rukia was about to go out the door with Orihime and Tatsuki when a boy, scared shitless by the looks of it, came wobbling up to her.

"Um…ah… Rukia-san," He began nervously, "I know you don't know me, and this is sort of bold of me…But would you mind eating lunch with me? Ah, that is, me and my friends?"

Being entirely new to associations outside the Society, which operated with order, precision, and regularity, Rukia was thrown off track with Keigo's request. Just how was she to respond to this stimulus? (Rukia's way of thinking is sometimes strange due to her training and endurance tests during the Society…)

In Rukia's life time, she had been subjected to many things. And while carrying an unconscious captain on her back certainly hadn't been part of the Society's curriculum, Rukia had gritted her teeth and did manage to drag Ukitate taichou out of harm's way. Rukia was your girl if you ever wanted a fast, painless (or at least she hoped so) send off, or if you wanted someone to fetch you something on the other side of a building in 10 seconds flat. However, knowing how to respond to propositions from boys was quite another matter. A negligence in the Society classes didn't foresee that happening. How very inconsiderate of them.

"I'm…flattered?" She said slowly, examining the eager boy, "But I think I already have an-"

"It's okay," Orihime whispered smilingly in her ear, "It's not everyday you get an invitation from a boy. Go on, we'll always be there. Meet us by the oak tree later, if you like. For today, try him out. He's Keigo Asano. A bit odd, but harmless." With that, she gave Rukia's stiff form a little push. "Go on!"

"Umm," the person called Keigo spoke, "Orihime-san's really welcome to come, too!"

"That's okay, Keigo-san. Maybe another time." Rejected. Oh well. He tried.

Rukia sighed and followed Keigo out the door.

In later years, she would have vehemently declared that she wouldn't have gone with Keigo had she known that by a funny little coincidence, Keigo's best friend's name was also synonymous with 'Strawberry'.

* * *


	6. It's Called A Picnic

Disclaimer: Bleach isn't mine. The only thing I own is the lap top where I'm typing this story from.

* * *

_**"**Hate is a strong word  
But I really really really don't like you." -Hate, Plain White T's_**  
**

**Chapter 6**

The sunshine was warm and enveloping against Rukia's skin. She had been inside too long. Sprinting, she had gotten rid of Keigo for a moment by saying that she needed to go to the powder room. Why the heck do they even call it a powder room? Granted, the term sounded much more pleasant that 'toilet', but only upon arriving at Wilford did she comprehend the true reason. The powder room at Wilford's was even bigger than her bedroom at home. It had rows upon rows of mirrors and small lights arranged in a cozy fashion, and there were all sort of flowers and expensive fragrances abound.

She gagged twice before she found the actual toilets. When she was done, Rukia pulled out a specialized Society cellphone that helped her pinpoint exactly were her next mission was. Today, she had been assigned to prevent any casualties amongst the public in a robbery attempt the Empties had been planning. She sighed. She was going to have to miss the second half of school. Rukia quickly copied the address down on a scrap piece of paper and left to find Keigo.

* * *

Elsewhere, Keigo was excitedly reiterating his exploits to any that would listen. Which…no one did, at least willingly. 

"…And then, she kinda looked unsure, but she agreed nonetheless." Keigo clenched a victorious fist in the air. "Ah, my attempts were fruitful this time!"

Ichigo, Chad, Ishida, and Misuiro were all lounging under the shade of a tall tree near Keigo, and thus had to endure his babblings.

"So who is the unlucky lady?" Ishida asked, spearing a piece of fish with his chopsticks savagely. "She must have been pretty stupid or on drugs or something to let herself be persuaded by such a stupid pick up line."

"Oh, you guys will just love her," Keigo drawled, "She's pure perfection! Wait till you meet her!"

Chad, a usually silent youth, regarded Keigo before speaking. "...you say that about every girl."

"Yeah, yeah, but this one's actually going to come sit with us today!"

By now, Ichigo had gotten pretty agitated. First, Keigo had come wailing up to him about some random nonsense (Which would have been plausible had he actually paid attention and listened), and now he was still rambling on about something Ichigo cared nothing about. Girls were all the same to him, those, that is, except for a few friends. The rest were loud, annoying, and way high maintenance.

"Oh, Keigo," Ichigo beckoned at him menacingly with a thumb, "if you want to tell us her name so badly, spit it out before I force it out of you. I'm really tired of you and your talking."

"Yes, yes!" the boy exclaimed hastily, fearing for his life. "You all should have seen her, the new student…Rucha or…no wait, Rukia-san. Yes, that's her name."

It took Ichigo a few seconds to digest the information.

"You what?" He bellowed, his leg jerking up from the ground as he leapt up resentfully. "You invited that freak of nature to our lunch?"

Mizuiro was up in a flash and was giving Ichigo consoling pats on the shoulder. "Calm down, Ichigo. He didn't know you had past connections with Rukia-san. I also sort of helped him with it," he added with a guiltless smile.

Ichigo glared at the brunette and took a deep breath.

"Yes, do this in a delegable manner," Ishida put in. "You can't solve everything with violence."

"Says who?" demanded Ichigo. He shook himself several times, clearly still annoyed at the mess Keigo had created. "Keigo," he said wearily, "I'm going about this calmly now, okay?"

"This is much better!" Keigo agreed.

"Okay. Do you value your life? If so, uninvite her."

"Uninvite who?" came a lilting voice from somewhere above.

Ichigo and crew looked up and sure enough, Rukia herself walking down the green slope towards them.

"What's wrong, Ginger boy?" Rukia asked of Ichigo cheekily, sitting down, "Your face looks like the date for the impending Armageddon had just been decided."

Chad took Rukia in with the silent eye that was not covered by his brown hair. "Ginger?"

"It fits his personality well, doesn't it?" Rukia smiled at Keigo, who was moping around indecisively, not sure whether to talk (in fear of Ichigo) or to stay silent. "Thanks for inviting me. This is a nice place for a ...what is it called again?"

"A picnic, dumbass! And no one invited you here except for that idiot!" Ichigo finally recovered his voice. "It's all his fault."

"Come on, Kurosaki," Ishida cut in, "give it a break. Why are you so vehement about going against Rukia-san? We don't even know her yet."

"Oh, I know her well enough," Ichigo retorted sulkily. "In fact, she got to know my face pretty well too!"

Rukia's countenance adopted an offended and shocked appearance, and she made as if to cry. Keigo's mouth dropped open. "No way? You guys were going out before? And you never told u-"

Rukia caught on to the conversation and corrected Keigo with a sickly sweet smile. "Oh, he doesn't mean it quite like _that. _Let's just say that we had a slight disagreement between us the first time we met."

"Translation." Ichigo rolled his neck back, cracking it for emphasis. "This little scrawny kid here friggin slapped me in the face last time."

"That was unavoidable," argued Rukia defensively, "because you punched me first."

"You did what?" asked Ishida, face highly scandalized. "You never hit girls!"

"I never said anything about not hitting suspicious, violence-inclined midgets, though!"

"And what are you implying?" Rukia shot back . "We'll take this outside!"

"Screw that, woman, we are outside."

The two glared at each other with the heated passion of a thousand blazing suns. They looked quite comical, together, with Rukia's hands propped resolutely on her hips in a stance that resembled an offended mother hen with her feathers ruffled, and Ichigo leering down unflinchingly at her.

"Okay, okay, break it up." Ishida said, swiping a hand before their faces. "Enough of this senseless bickering."

Both Rukia and Ichigo 'harumph'-ed together and faced away.

"Anyways, it's late, but we should introduce ourselves." Mizuiro smiled innocently at Rukia, and she quelled her anger. He was so sweet! Despite his asshole friend and all, this boy was polite and refined."I'm Mizuiro Kojima, here for studying."

"He means that his older, purely innocent platonic friends paid for his tuition," Ichigo said acrimoniously. "It sums up that he's about as intelligent as the average bottle opener."

Mizuiro shot Ichigo a dirty look. "Well," Rukia grinned, "at least he has more manners than the average Ichigo."

"Hey," Said person noted despite the underlying bite, "You called me by my real name."

"I guess I did. Don't get used to it."

Ishida finished his seafood lunch and introduced the rest of the group. "Well, my name is Ishida Uryuu, here for Archery, that is Yasutora Sado, or just Chad, here for wrestling… yeah, didn't really expect him to say anything…that, as you probably knew, is Keigo Asano, and that completes our group. Oh, and let's not forget Kurosaki Ichigo."

Rukia nodded and flashed everyone (notice how she turned back around exactly in Ichigo's line of vision) a charming smile. "It's great to meet you. I'm sure we'll get along just fine…if Ichigo there behaves himself."

In her mind, she carefully assessed the situation. Ishida Uryuu...could he be related to the wealthy director from Wilford? Anyways, she had to keep a close eye on him. Yasutora Sado...nothing on him. Keigo and Mizuiro were clear, as she had no memory of seeing their names on the suspicion lists. Ichigo's dad had been mentioned before on some document or other, but Rukia didn't remember where. It probably hadn't been that important.

Ichigo was having quite the inner battle. Clear up the situation and risk suffering the midget's wrath or be humiliated in front of his friends? He took the choice. Oh boy.

"Seriously, shorty. You keep on making it seem like it was my problem that our seats are screwed up. If you didn't come here, then think of how peachy keen things would be right now." He crumpled up a used napkin and walked away to a trashcan. She wouldn't try anything with everyone watching, now would she? He went away feeling quite sure of himself.

In Rukia's inner mind, her mad-o-meter was a frickin 20, out a scale from one to ten. She was quietly sitting there, minding her own business, and thinking of what to report to Ukitate-taichou, when that big headed jerk starts running his mouth again. The idiot in front of her really was something, contradicting her in her well thoughtout coverup story. It was one thing to tease (as she termed what she was doing) and one to outrightly correct someone. The fact that he was rudely doing the later and accusing her unjustly infuriated her.

"Kurosaki-kun?" Don't show emotion yet, Rukia told herself. Bid your time.

"What is it?" Just a few more seconds, and then he would be close enough. He was now towered over her. _Perfect_. "Well?"

Soundlessly, Rukia grabbed the back of Ichigo's collar and slammed his face into the ground. In no time at all, Ichigo's nose was bleeding uncontrollably. Ahh, the advantages of being an assassin proves handy yet again.

Rukia found seven eyes on her, gaping. (Only one eye could be seen on Chad's face, and Ichigo was twitching, reduced to a twitching blob on the spotless ground below).

Her own eyes went as wide as saucers, and she crouched down curiously besides Ichigo, as if she hadn't seen him there before.

"Ohoho, it seems that Ichigo has had quite the slip! Gee, he's so clumsy. I'll just have to take him to the infirmary now! Thanks for having me!" With that, Rukia straightened and marched off the horizon, with little dust trails marking her progress.

"Um…" Keigo began uneasily, "Did she just completely own Ichigo?"

"I don't know," Chad answered with an unrepressed shudder, "it all happened so fast."

"You guys are missing the point. Do we even have an infirmary? Much less so, does Rukia-san know her way around?" Ishida procured some geeky looking binoculars out of nowhere and tried to follow the now settling dust. "Our only clinic on Wilford is that way." He pointed to the direction that the two had headed opposite in.

"I really hope Rukia-san knows where she's going…"

* * *

Yes. I couldn't hold back the urge to torment Ichigo. I hope you guys are liking this...I'm trying to portray them getting to know each other as much as possible. The next chapter two chapters is really packed with IchiRuki bantering, so be on the lookout. 

Thanks so much for all the encouraging reviews, especially to those of you who have stayed with this little story. I'm eternally grateful. Whenever I get an email saying I got a new review, I'm on cloud nine for the rest of the day. :)

**Notes:**

a. Personally, I think my summary stinks. If someone would be as kind as to suggest a more creative alternative? Thanks xD

b. I'm also looking for a beta...I know that my story isn't that big or anything, but I'd appreciate if anyone who isn't to biased or too easy on me to preview my stories before I post. :)

c. This might be the last update for a while, as I'm going on a month long vacation soon. I'll have internet access for some parts of it, and I'll see what I can do. This is NOT going on hiatus if I don't update it. Yay for IchiRuki! WOOOH.


	7. Alone in the Woods

Disclaimer: Bleach isn't mine.

OMG! I feel like such a dork, updating my fanfic in the middle of my vacation! But that's okay. I've had this chapter written out since a long time ago, so I don't feel that guilty. I just wanted to post this before I leave for my internship tomorrow.

**Chapter 7**

_"Barely even friends  
Then somebody bends  
Unexpectedly..."_

* * *

"Comments like that will cost you much more in the future," Rukia was saying smugly behind a cluster of pines to a disgruntled Ichigo, "So watch that filthy tongue of yours, ok? And before you ask, yes, I just _had_ to drag you here so the others wouldn't be suspicious. Sometimes my actions hardly call for welcome reception." 

"No kidding," Ichigo gingerly rubbed his face. He wasn't talking to her because, gee, there really wasn't much you could say to a petite girl that just completely bashed your innocent face into hard cement.

Rukia took out some strips of white bandage from within her uniform and thrust them at the boy on the ground. "Use this or leave it."

"Peh," Ichigo grunted, reluctantly snatching the gauze from her, "What will you do, spread the short germ and infect me to be vertically challenged?" He ducked instinctively, afraid of what that remark was going to earn him.

But Rukia, oddly, wasn't coming up with her witty little insults, and was instead focused on a cell phone in her hand. It had rang, and she had shut up immediately. Ichigo figured he would like the cell phone to ring more frequently.

After a while, he was sick of just waiting there on the ground watching Rukia tap away at the cellphone. He wrapped up some excess bandage and straightened up against a tree, trying to keep weight off his right arm, which was still throbbing numbly.

"No cell phones on campus, Miss Model Student," He said, waving an uninjured hand in front of her face. She swatted it away. "Besides," he asked, "what else could you possibly do to me besides slap me, insult me, and slam my nose into the handiest horizontal object?"

"Oh, I don't know," replied Rukia, still squinting furiously at the glaring cell phone screen, "Use your imagination."

"So you'll fry me in a baking pan and feed my innards to maniacal calculators bent on possessing the earth through electromagnetism?"

"Mmhmm," Rukia said, distractedly, "Sounds about right."

Ichigo promptly strode over from the slightly crushed pine leaves under him. A spicy scent rushed up into his nose.

"What's up with –_sneeze_- you? Preoccupied with a cell phone game, no less," he said after attempting to sneak a look over her shoulder. "What's so important about that?"

She flinched and moved away from him quickly. Her narrowed eyes let him glimpse a layer of the hesitation and secrets buried inside.

"Don't look at what doesn't concern you, Nosy! I'll have you know that this isn't for you to see. Anyways, standing so close to me is an invasion of personal space. Aren't you concerned about your image, with me so near?" She taunted, her eyes again alive, challenging him with their claims. "Why are you such a hypocrite?"

"I'm not," he said haughtily, "If _you_ haven't noticed, I have to congratulate you on picking one spot that no one can spy in on. There's no one to see me with you, so it's all good."

What he said sunk in for a moment in the quietness. Nothing save the soft whirr of the electric box near them was disturbing the peace. Silence was abound, and the two were all alone. All alone…

Both had an epiphany in the middle of the little wooden clearing. They were in a secluded glade, and no one could hear or see them. It was perfect…

For arguing, of course!

Ichigo began his verbal assault first.

"What kind of a loser keeps a roll of gauze with them everywhere?" Ichigo scrutinized the wad suspiciously before chucking them back to Rukia.

"Obviously a more careful and prepared loser than you!" She returned. This idiot was not learning his place quickly enough..."I'm not the one who was got beat up by a girl twice. Advice for the future: try not to diss the very person that helped you out."

"I was not beaten up," Ichigo sneered, plopping on the ground (he obviously held no respect for his stiff, business-ish uniform). "That is to say, I didn't retaliate. Anyhow, I wouldn't have been in this retarded position had you restrained yourself from hitting me back there."

"Your inability to control your tongue is not my problem, Kurosaki-san," Rukia paced around him, mocking him with her eyes and piercing tongue. "As I mentioned earlier, we would get along just pleasantly if you shut the hell up."

Then, Ichigo noticed something about Rukia. She was very easy to read, as long as you knew where to look. Her eyes held kindled fire in them; the mysterious blue depths reflected clearly what she was feeling. When they first met in the classroom, her eyes had flashed a startled indigo, and though her posture and stance otherwise had been quite composed, her eyes betrayed her and told another story.

As of now, her cerulean orbs were glittering something awful. Ichigo got a bad feeling in his stomach that she really loved messing with his head. She wasn't so much as displeased as happy to toy with Ichigo's mind.

"Hey, you're having way too much fun with this."

"Don't be a spoilsport," she said, speaking quietly so as not to disturb a tiny thrush who had made it's careful way into the woods. "School's all about fun, isn't it?"

Forget irritable and a complete snippety, and add clueless idiot to the list. "Um, sorry to break it to you, but we're all here for an education, not for a year of raunchy times."

"I know," she said, her voice almost a whisper. The little bird was really close to her now, and she was staying still, completely motionless besides the soft movement of her lips. "But it's were you can relax a bit and make friends, right?"

"You won't be making many friends," he laughed a bit too goodnaturedly for his liking, "if you treat everyone the same that you treat me."

"Hey, you're an exception. You ought to feel special." Again, her eyes held that half taunting, half enjoyable trance. "I reciprocate people's attitudes towards me."

"And…that accounts for your abuse of me how?"

"As I've said, you're an exception."

"Hmph." Silence. "So how did you manage to end up making the dance team? I heard from someone that the acceptance rate was low…about 15. No way you would have made it without some sort of blackmail or something."

Ichigo was teasing her. "Is that an insult?" Her voice rose, and the little bird fluttered away. She glared at Ichigo menacingly, as if blaming him on its departure.

"Hey, don't look at me! You startled it." Ichigo craned his neck to see the thrush leap away. "It is an insult only if you take it like an ill-tempered, PMS-ing idiot."

Rukia's nostrils flared quite becomingly. She was getting quite riled up by the insolent jerkface.

"Well, I'll not be insulted by a sexist idiot." Ichigo made to protest, but she cut him off with a flip of her hands. "Actually, calling you an idiot is an insult to the people with actual mental problems."

Her poker face was impassive, as if to provoke him into argument. Ichigo stood up and replied scathingly. "Psh, sexist my butt. Excuse me if I'm slightly discriminated against things that bleed for weeks on end and don't die."

Rukia snorted. "Without you guys, we wouldn't have to suffer."

"Geez, do you have a complex about always getting the last word?"

"That's generally the case. I'm good at arguing."

"And lying!" he added hotly. "I never knew you could put on such an act."

Rukia smiled briefly before becoming stern and patronizing again. She was indeed having a good time making fun of the hot-headed man before her, and somehow she didn't think that the Society would approve much of her doings. Ukitake-sensei had told her to be on the look out for Empty children and suspicious behaviors, and even told her to record her daily proceedings in a log. Undoubtlessly this kind of behavior was frowned upon…

"You don't know a lot about me." she said. "Anyways, that was a pressing situation. Attempting not to get stuck with sitting to a knucklehead doofus for an entire year constitutes as a dire emergency begging to be prevented, so excuse me if I had to resort to lying." Rukia leaned against a sturdy oak behind her and kicked up tufts of earth with her shoes. "Can you honestly say that you wanted to sit by me the whole entire year?"

Not missing a beat and not even having to consider the issue, he said simply, "Hell no."

Rukia nodded, not offended, contrary to Ichigo's prediction (and to his advantage, really). Her little spiel having played out, she faced him with her nose wrinkled slightly, and Ichigo assessed the situation.

It was the first frickin day at school, and here she was, making cake out of the recipe for disaster. Whenever she opened her mouth, his preference was to stick something painful up her ass, but then he reckoned he probably would have had to first take out the ten foot pole that was lodged in there first. Oh well. She made for an interesting conversation. Ishida either always talked nonstop about education, Orihime about her wild imaginations, while Chad more or less seemed like he didn't have any vocal chords.

"I'm assuming that you don't want to deal with me either, right?" Hey, he wasn't that bad, was he? Then again, it wasn't protocol that he had to grump at her every two seconds.

"No freakin' duh!" Sarcasm dripped off her voice and echoed off the woods in the clearing.

"Well, that's funny," he resumed triumphantly, scratching his nose, "You're still here, wasting lunch away with me. Besides, aren't you hungry?" Ichigo had eaten before Rukia appeared, but he wasn't sure if the short girl had had her lunch before bothering him. "Lunch period's over in about five."

"Five what?" She paled. Her stomach grumbled loudly, and she blushed despite herself. "Minutes?"

"What else? Hours? We're not leading that much of a leisurely lifestyle here, you know."

Rukia rolled her eyes and backed out of the forest into bright sunlight. She called to him as she ran.

"I know that, and thanks to Sode no Shirayuki, I learned the hard way." Ichigo couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. "Summer practice was hell, but definitely worth it."

She was racing up the formidable granite steps in bounds, and Ichigo inadvertently admired her speed. Her swift steps brought her quickly up the slope, and to him, she faintly resembled a hopping bunny, with the way her feet barely touched the ground.

He made a mental note to tell her that she ran weird the next time they meet. Meaning, if they at all meet again. Maybe the anti-Christ that had set him up to sit next to Rukia finally stopped delighting in steadily shortening his lifespan.

He smoothed out his ruffled suit and regained his composure. It was time to return to the living hell hole that others called school.

There was something soft, he decided somewhat unwillingly as she made her way urgently towards their classroom, beneath her hard ass behavior. Andthough Ichigo couldn't exactly place what it was, he admired her for it nonetheless. She was different, (no other girl save Tatsuki had punched him before, and that was only because they had been sparring partners), and Ichigo felt an odd little quirking of his lips as her small figure ran out of his sight.

* * *

Haha! I actually had another section of a lunch thing typed out, but I guess I can update that next time. This was just some silly IchiRuki love. 

So where I am right now is really hot... sweltering, really. I was born here, and I'm so glad to be able to eat all the little things that I had as a child!

Thanks so much to joster13 and Alkaid for reading my thingie, and all those who offered. I was almost stunned to tears at the amount of people who wanted to help with this little plot bunny of mine.

Please review if you want to!

Love, Jerkess.


	8. The Director's Threat

Disclaimer: Don't own nothin', yadda yadda.

There will be an omake at the end! (My favorite, so far.)

**Chapter 8 **

_" Ev'ry little trait, however small  
Makes my very flesh begin to crawl  
With simple utter loathing"-Wicked_

* * *

Nekai-sensei closed the classroom door with a soft push. Now that it was lunch, not a student was to be found in the spacious halls. Another year to be endured. Well, she had enjoyed the summer, so she couldn't complain about coming back. There was no gain without pain, right? 

At the end of Complex 14, Nekai-sensei stopped in mid step. A small boy wearing the standard smock of the janitorial department was hurriedly picking up the cleaning supplies that were strewn haphazardly accross the floor. The cart was upsy-daisy, the cleaning fluid had spilled neatly into a potted plant, the boy was bent over double, trying to stop further damage (and not succeeding, as she wryly observed), and his broom was still rolling persistently away from him.

She sighed. "Let me help you."

The short boy jumped and saw Nekai-sensei, in her crisp brown suit. "Umm..." He squirmed uncomfortably as she looked at him, her feet tapping out on the ground noisily while she waited for an acknowledgement of her presence, or at least an explanation for the whole mess.

"Uhh..." The boy's mouth was dry, and he couldn't say anything.

His eyes watched in surprise as the teacher erected the mop into its proper position on the upturned cart. "Oh well. Please clean it up." She walked away, towards the teacher's lounge's general direction.

"Ahh, wait, sensei!" He called after her. Her pace did not slacken, but he had already built up his courage. "My...my name is Hanatarou! I am a trainee janitor! And...thank you for helping me, ma'am." His face was a bit flushed, for he was a stranger to kindness, though caring at heart.

"For heaven's sake, don't call me ma'am. Makes me feel all old. And, I know who you are. Hanatarou Yamada, isn't it? You're apprenticing at the clinic and doing janitorial work to earn your stay. And..." She looked down into her notebook, slender fingers leafing quickly through the abundant pages, "You came here in the February of two years ago."

Hanatarou gulped. This teacher...how did she know all of this? And had it been truly two years already? He had been psyched at first to learn that he was chosen to do an internship, of sorts, for the acclaimed Wilford academy, but when he got there, it had become a joke. He had to undertake janitorial duties along with his clinic training. It sucked, especially seeing as how he had few familiar faces save for that Ganju boy (who was extremely devoted to chemistry and had a peculiar obsession with explosives) and a kind librarian by the name of Ran Tao.

"This note book knows all," she said, perhaps she had seen Hanatarou's puzzled expression and offered that as an answer.

Hanatarou stood up and glanced hopefully in her direction. She was gone.

* * *

Now, Nekai-sensei stood just outside of a sleekly polished door. There were faint sounds of a heavy chair grinding across the floor, and seconds later the door swung out wards. A woman stepped out and she beckoned Nekai-sensei into the regal office with a submissive gesture. "The director is ready to accept you now." 

The director of Wilford turned in his seat as Nekai-sensei walked into the warm room.

"Good morning,Ishida-sama."

"The same to you. Please take a seat, Masuku-san."

Nekai Masuku did as she was told, and found the profered chair pleasantly soft and yielding. The chair was nothing like the man that sat dispassionately in front of her.

"May I inquire the purpose of our meeting?" Nekai-sensei's hand ran softly over her familiar notebook in her lap, voice rising slightly in incredulity. "It has only been one day into the school year. Surely none of my students are misbehaving on this day!"

Ryuken Ishida leaned forward and light glinted off of his glasses as his eyes locked into hers. There was something about the action, and Nekai-sensei was prompted to smile, as Ishida often replicated the gesture in class (mostly while he was gazing at a particularly large chested redhead -not Ichigo-)

"Do you find me amusing?" he asked in a humorless tone. "I hadn't known I was that funny." Whether by conscious action or an accident, the director's sleeves caught onto a silver wrought picture frame. It smashed face down onto the ebony desk, glass shards strewing about.

The same woman that had opened the door quickly limped in again, hastily clearing the broken pieces with her bare hands.

"That's good, Ayame." The small, black haired assistant bowed and cleared out. Her superior fixed his gaze onto her again.

Watching Ishida Ryuken's face was right up there with watching grass grow. Nekai-sensei again fingered the dogeared notebook in her lap and pushed her head back, a bit threatened by their proximity. The man's eyes in front of her were piercing, invading her as if he could see through her soul. It made her skin crawl, the way that he could overpower all her years of previous intimidations with his silence. And through it all, the familiar notebook was comforting in her hands.

"No, Ishida-sama." Nekai-sensei disagreed levelly. "I respect you as my employer and I respect your views. I understand that our morals and objectives are different, but we are both here to positively influence the youths of this area." She rescued the fallen picture from the frame and caught a glimpse of unmistakable black hair.

The director pocketed his son's picture and stood up. "Masuku-san," he said with his voice bordering into slight accusation, "claiming that you respect me is just an optimistic euphemism for the fact that our goals are spectrums apart. There is no need in pretending that we do not disagree. On the subject of our purposes, we will simply have to agree to disagree."

Nekai-sensei inclined her head. True. Ryuken Ishida had stopped at nothing to have her not employed at Wilford. Still, with her impressive eloquence and her connections, the school board approved of her, vetoing the director's original rejection.

"I'm sure you know why I called you here for. It's the new student in your class."

"Kuchiki Rukia. Yes. What about her?"

"Please do not feign innocence with me. I'm sure you have all the files you can get on her right in your ever present notebook. Hmm," he mused partially to himself. "I wonder what would happen if the school board had access to its contents. Would you still be here?" He chuckled and turned sharply. "Not that anything like that would ever happen, right?"

"Anyhow," the director resumed his even pacing in the office, "since her first visit here, I've taken... special notice, let's just say, of her. She didn't turn up in any of the databases, and that immediately roused suspicion. Most prospective new students we already scouted before, and even if that wasn't the case, old information would have registered onto my computer." He turned his laptop so that it faced Nekai-sensei. "Perfectly clean. Too clean, actually. There was no indication of her birth, her pedigree, nor of any news involving her. With a few documents gone, I finally figured out that she was probably a part of the Death Gods. She was flawless in her act, except for the fact that she was too engrossed in her desire to attend here to have avoided contact with me."

"What does this have to do with me? And why would I know?" Nekai-sensei asked.

"Don't act like you're surprised, Masuku-san." the director reclined lazily back into his leather seat. "I wouldn't have told you what I know had I not been certain of the fact that you already were aware of all this."

"I am not interested in her affairs, nor does this involve me." She wanted to maintain her unobtrusiveness and escape the suspicious glances of the silver-haired man before her. "If you are suggesting that I spy on her for you, you are very wrong in your calculations."

Ryuken Ishida did not flinch from her pointed words. "Did I make it seem as I was implying that? You are incorrect on that also. I merely want you to do anything that will endanger Wilford, or more importantly, yourself."

Nekai-sensei did not fail to recognize that small sneer in his voice. "Understood, Ishida-sama. However, you need not worry about my 'attempts'. I think the only one that she needs to be concerned of, if I may say this boldly, is you yourself, sir."

With her notebook in tow, she bowed and pushed her chair back into place.

Ishida-sama's light voice reached her again. "Still, I'm sure you will be making some notes on our special case of ours in your notes. See me next Tuesday and report."

The door closed with finality, and Nekai-sensei walked away with heavy thoughts. He had made it clear, what he wanted her to do. She would have to obey if she wanted to stay at Wilford's, but by no means did she like it. Subservience and weakness were two things she wouldn't take from anyone.

Her lover might have been the only exception.

* * *

_Omake, to make up for the lack of IchiRuki here.  
_

The clamor of sword against sword was grating against Rukia's ear. She tried running from the battle, but everywhere she turned to was bared with booming canons and artillery. Her feet felt wooden and immobile as she clambered up the hill, the calm top seeming an eternity away. Discordant sounds of metal gouging on metal and the dull roar of multiple machine guns terrified her, and she tried hard not to slip.

Rukia woke up in a sweat surrounded in a tangle of sheets and limbs. It took her several moments to assess her situation.

She rubbed her sleep filled eyes and abruptly turned to her bed partner. Without preamble, she struck him harshly on the stomach.

"Dammit Ichigo! Didn't I tell you not to leave on the fucking rap music?"

* * *

Well, I'm back from vacation, and I'm updating this the first chance I get. I've written more on my time off, but that still needs to be edited...badly... 

So, thanks again, to my beta, **joster13, **who'd beta'ed this a LONG time ago, and all those lovely readers out there.

I have to persuade you to read a few fics that REALLY caught my eye. Try **I Do, Stranger, **by God'sAngel, and **Timeless Insights from a Father**, by VirtualAilee, for IchiRuki goodness and the Ishida family crack-up, respectively. Also, **Ocean**, by hanataro-kun, is a great read.

A couple reviewers had questions on the Society and Empties, so here goes. Due to the poor conditions of Karakura and Rukongai (areas outside Wilford), many people are driven into desperate crooks, manipulating others and robbing with every chance they get. They are called Empties, and a few powerful families with stable roots in Empty history still exist, despite the Society's vow to vanquish them. They (rich Empties) are perhaps the only ones with wealth and comfort outside of Wilford, which is a publicly funded school under the reason that even the poorest families wanted their offspring to learn well and improve their lives.Yeah.

Also, the vague ending about Nekai's lover is meant to be like that. She could be wish Ishida, or she might not...:P


	9. So What If I Carried Her?

Disclaimer: Kaien is dead. Therefore, I do not own Bleach.

Caution: Excessive tormenting of a certain person by another. A raven haired girl really enjoys toying with a redhead's , well, head.

**Chapter 9**

_"I've been searching in the woods, and high upon the hills_

_Just to find, to find my samurai." Butterfly, Smile DK_

* * *

Rukia didn't know what had hit her. It seemed as if the mother of all possible stomachaches had decided to visit her at that moment. 

After reprimanding Ichigo in the forest, she had sped towards Complex 14, grabbed some lunch, and plopped down in her seat. She had been absolutely fine, sitting attentively, as Nekai-sensei was handing out papers for school. And then… a rumbling loud enough for all her adjacent neighbors to hear had disturbed the peace. Needless to say that she was beyond mortified to have discovered that the source of the noise was her own grumbling stomach.

Ichigo, who was sitting dully behind her, eyed her with a peculiar glance, as if questioning, 'WTF'? She shrugged and stared back at her paperwork again.

'_Tardiness will not be accepted after the third violation_.' it read. The girl shifted smugly in her seat. Ichigo had only one more strike until he landed himself in the director, Ishida Ryuken, courtesy a la Rukia. And the next rule:'_All directions given from the director or a teacher must be followed explicitly…_' Well, dur.

The list went on and on about the regulations at Wilford, and most of the students didn't bother to read it. Keigo was making gah gah eyes at Orihime -who was talking with Tatsuki- who was fending off a girl with abnormally red hair- who was making quite the fuss which was…well, you get the picture. Nekai-sensei stood up with a sigh of impatience. She'd had a long first day.

Nekai-sensei cleared her throat."I really don't want to have to remind you guys this at the beginning of the year, but what happened to your restraining order, Chizuru? If you don't have a copy, I can supply one for you," she nodded meaningfully to Chizuru, who was caught in the act. Actually, it quite fortunate that Nekai-sensei had stepped in when she did, for Tatsuki's fist was dangerously close with coming in contact with the queer's face.

"And, Tatsuki," she gestured towards the indignant girl, "acts of violence will get you nowhere. I'm sure you don't want to waste another detention on Chizuru, right? If you do," she consulted her clipboard casually, "that will be your fourth detention brought on by fighting, three of which were induced by Chizuru."

Her blue eyes twinkled with faint amusement and she passed on to inspect Keigo with a wry glance. "Keigo, Keigo, Keigo. What can we do for you?"

The class snorted and Ichigo scratched his head. "Give it up. He's hopeless."

"There's no help for the dead," the teacher agreed with a sagacious nod of the head.

Keigo immediately started overreacting and seeking solace from Rukia and a plethora of nearby girls. "Oh, my lovelies, the teacher is so mean!"

Nekai-sensei overheard. "Well, at least you can turn on the 'charm' when you need to, Keigo. That's something. You should be proud of your acting abilities. (Not so much as abilities as unnecessary histrionics, but it's somewhat useful in your field, right?) It might," she winked widely at the class, "come in handy later."

"Is this the thing that was on the newsletter?" Tatsuki asked perceptively. "You know, the exciting thing?"

"Please stop your guesses before I have to cancel the event, Arisawa-san." Nekai-sensei retreated to her desk easily. "It'll be more fun if you find out later, so just read over the guidelines in silence." A highly wrought clock at the back of the classroom ticked dully. "There's only forty five minutes left of class, so a silent period till then. Got it?" Without waiting for an answer, she started tapping away on her computer.

Rukia was having a bad time of it all. Her stomach was hurting something awful, and she had a mission in half an hour. Of course, she was going to have to go to the designated location regardless of sickness or health, rain or shine conditions, but she was about ready to keel over with the throbbing, twisting pain in her midsection.

"Pst, what's with you, freak?" That was Ichigo, always the prime example of the caring classmate. Not.

"Gee, I wonder. Maybe because it feels like a family of stiletto clad elephants temporarily took refuge in my stomach?" Rukia turned away dismissively and tried to glare at her paper again.

Ichigo's persistence (and the fact that his pencil was determinedly trying to bore a hole in her back) finally took her attention from her stomach away. "Is it because you didn't have lunch?"

"What's it to you?" She whispered in fear that Nekai-sensei would randomly look up from her nook of the room. "Read the Curriculum Guide, like you are supposed to, and don't get me in trouble!"

"I don't have to," he hissed back, effortlessly propping up his feet on the back of Rukia's chair. "_I _went here last year and so I naturally know it all. I have knowledge and experience. Or did your little brain not grasp that fact?"

Orihime glanced up from her paper by chance and saw Rukia glowering defensively at Ichigo four seats to her left. Her face wasn't so much as contorted by anger as by a grimace.

"Did you know…" Rukia said slowly, "that karate members have to have semi-annual check-ups, provided by the school physician?"

The orange haired girl listening was going to voice her doubt of that statement, but a clearly agitated Ichigo was whispering full speed to Rukia.

"What? No way!" He was saying. "Let me see that!" He tried to unsuccessfully grab the document on Rukia's desk.

Rukia smirked pleasantly (is that possible?) despite her stomachache, at Ichigo, and whisked her paper to the ground, away from him. His head, carried by the momentum of his lunge, earned him a hard smack with reality. Namely, Rukia's desk.

"Kindly remove your face from my writing space, Kurosaki-kun." She resumed reading the guide again, as if not perturbed in the least by the Ginger on her desk. "I don't want grease marks on it the next time I sit here."

Orihime and Ishida were silently watching the amusing episode of Ichigo's rapid demise. They were enjoying it stupendously, and when they saw each other laughing at the same thing, both turned away, blushing a little.

Meanwhile, Rukia was gloating her victory.

"You are getting very dependent on me, Kurosaki-kun," she smiled. Well, she would have her share of dictatorship here at Wilford. Rukia was used to giving commands, along with reprimands, and she found that she could continue that cheerful practice on Ichigo at Wilford. Ichigo wasn't as pleased. A vein was almost popping out of his head. And after he had been so decent as to remind her that lunch was ending…

Ichigo could only hiss in frustration as he suffered the latest onslaught of humiliation that day.

"First you needed my help to go to the infirmary and now trying to read off of my paper…" Rukia shook her head while hiding a smile.

Keigo heard the slick patronization in Rukia's low tone and shot daggers at Ichigo, who was grimacing slightly at his sore nose. "Yeah," he shot at Ichigo, "you're so incompetent."

"That's not fair!" Ichigo said a bit childishly once he managed to unstick his cheek from Rukia's desk, "She was the one that-"

What he saw next made his blood run cold. Rukia had, with inhuman speed, whipped out the ridiculously pink cell phone she had earlier and tapped out a message. It read, '_If you want a repeat episode of what you experienced at lunch, finish the sentence. Don't worry, I still have plenty of bandages around. If not, please stop flapping your big mouth_.'

Nevermind the freakishly fast texting skills, but he stopped midsentence. Then, noticing as if for the first time that he was standing up, he sat down abruptly and leaned forward to Rukia to ask the question eating at him.

"No way that they have semi-annual checkups!" Ichigo said to ease his own mind.

Seriously. Karate was his life, and also the only thing that kept him at Wilford. He didn't want to lose it all. "I only had one for the whole of last year! Is Zangetsu-dono going to kick me out if I don't have the forms? Shit!"

"Hold your horses," Rukia pulled out the handbook in agonizing slowness. "It doesn't say that, now does it?"

Ichigo's jaw dropped. His social status just plummeted into the abyss of emptiness for nothing?

"However, you proclaiming that you know the school and everything around you is quite naïve and assumptive, isn't it? My earlier point proved that. I don't like boastful behavior all that much. And…" she tapped a thoughtful finger on her mouth. "What was it again?"

"What?" Ichigo demanded weakly, half recoiling in dread of all the other degrading comments she could come up with.

"Oh, that's right," she resumed, ignoring his imploring face. "Experience and knowledge my butt. The only thing you have is inferiority and stupidity, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Ishida coughed, pushed his glasses back with a controlled effort, and suppressed a snort. Orihime didn't know whether to feel sorry for Ichigo or to congratulate Rukia for making Ichigo flustered… a feat she had never been able to pull off in the years that she had known him. Not that she had ever wanted to intentionally embarrass him in front of the whole class…However, for Rukia, that didn't seem to be the case.

Ichigo slumped lower in his seat. The saying was true. Anything and everything you say will be used against you. Life was a bitch at times. Then, his little depressed brain managed to process the next thought without too much mental failure, the writhing girl in front of him was life.

Wait, writhing?

Upon further inspection, the black-haired future cross-examiner (that was Ichigo's assumption of what that crazy girl would become, anyways) was sliding around uncomfortably in her chair, with a chalk white hand gripping her stomach.

"I don't feel so good," she murmured. Her hand was clenching and unclenching rapidly under her desk.

"You don't look so hot either," he commented. Oops. That came out wrong.

In spite of her pain and wooziness, she still succeeded in glaring at Ichigo. Rukia managed to stare levelly through him while her face was contorted with pain. "Excuse me, but I'm afraid I'm going to faint."

Then she dropped like a fly. Rukia's forehead, meet Rukia's desk. Rukia's desk, meet Rukia's forehead.

"Rukia?" Ichigo called, softly shaking her shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"Get her to the clinic please, Kurosaki-kun." Ichigo felt a presence over his shoulder and found Nekai-sensei checking on Rukia's pulse. "It could be heat stroke or just the excitement of the first day here that did this to her, but she needs medical attention."

"Why me?" Ichigo groaned at the thought of lugging Rukia across the thirty-acre campus to the clinic by the swimming pools. "Couldn't you call a proctor?"

"Nope," she said decisively. "Takes too much time. Besides, I had my eye on you when you were talking during the peace and disturbing Rukia-chan. Unless you want some sort of retribution for your misdeed, then bringing her to the clinic will be your penance. Now go, before I change my mind and think of something else...more interesting for you."

Ichigo sighed resignedly, and Keigo volunteered to bring the fainted girl to the clinic.

"I'm done," he said keenly, almost falling out of his seat in anticipation. "I'll carry her there, in my strong arms, bridal style-"

"No," Ichigo cut him off without much consideration. "Heavens knows what you'll do to a passed out girl."

Without a word further, he bent down, effortlessly picked Rukia up, and walked out of the door, with the whole class staring at him.

Thank goodness Rukia was fairly well passed out.

Otherwise, she would have seen the unmistakable tinge of red creep up on Ichigo's cheek.

* * *

Muahaha, I think that's quite a good slice of the delicious IchiRuki pie, even though I kinda stink at writing conversations...or anything else for that matter. Sorry for the late update, AP EURO homework is a huge pain in the nether regions. 

Hey, I'm also working on another IchiRuki fic (only one chap up) , and I need your opinions. Should I postpone working on that while I finish this piece? (which is going to be at least in its twenties before I call it quits) or should I try to update them both? I hate having loose ends, and working on both reduces time put on this one, so um, suggestions :D


	10. Two Faces

Disclaimer: Me no own.

**Chapter 10 **

_"But I know you're so much more...  
Everything they ignore  
Is all that I need to believe." -Let Love In, the Googoo Dolls._

* * *

(PS they started school on a Friday. Don't ask why. Just go with it.) 

Ichigo was sitting on a chair across from a sterilized hospital bed. He had been in this wing of the clinic before, when he had broken his left arm in a tough match against one of the rougher schools in the region. What had sucked about that mishap was the fact that not only did it hurt like a mother: the arm he had damaged was his left one, so he wasn't exempt from his homework at all. In fact, Nekai-sensei had cheerily announced to him that she expected his work to be doubly well done, considering the amplitude of 'idle time' he was sure to have in the hospital wing. He had called Nekai-sensei a sadistic woman. That was until he met Rukia.

His arms were propped on his knees, and the smell of all too clean equipment cleaned with hydrogen peroxide stung his nose. He was used to the smell, but in no way did he like it. With his nose wrinkled, he inspected the antiseptic laced room.

Ichigo's amber eyes landed on Rukia's closed eyelids and he sighed. This supposed dancer was really screwing him up. He scowled, and then he let his features soften. She wasn't looking, he knew, and so there was no point to better himself and waste precious face muscle. He settled a bit more comfortably and prepared himself for a long stay. The nurse had told him to watch Rukia until she woke up, with no exceptions, and had left earlier to get more medication from the stock room.

* * *

When Rukia woke up on the starched white linen of the high-tech clinic, she immediately jumped and clutched the sheets to her protectively. Finding the culprit of her abduction looking intently at her, she nearly started to pounce on him when he suddenly looked away. 

"You shouldn't move too much. The heartbeat monitor is still attached to you. You'll break the machine."

Rukia hmphed and leaned back momentarily on her pillows before returning to an upright position. "So you're worried about the stupid contraption, but not me?"

Ichigo smiled, showing a sliver of teeth. "I guess you could say. Those babies don't come cheap, you know."

"And you know this because…?"

"My dad runs a clinic in Karakura."

"Hmm." Rukia considered that point for a moment, carefully picturing Ichigo carrying a stethoscope and leaning over a patient with a clip board. She couldn't see it. She shook herself of that odd thought and realized something. "Why are you here?"

"Well…" Ichigo said into the air. "Why _am_ I here? I certainly don't want to be, but the nurse insisted I stay with you until she comes back." Ichigo scooted his chair closer, much to Rukia's displeasure. "You know, you're a funny one."

"Oh?" Rukia's eyebrows shot up. "And you pass your oh-so-accurate judgment because?"

"For one," he said, holding up a finger, "I think you've got to be the first person that I've ever known to have calmly explained that they're going to faint…and proceeded to do exactly so following that. How does that figure?"

He smiled a slow, cocky grin in his amusement, and Rukia gnawed on her tongue forcefully to keep from smiling back. She had to admit, her whole fainting scene must have been quite funny…though the ache in her head now was not pleasant at all.

"So no one had ever told you that they were going to faint before they did it?"

"Nope. The patients at our clinic generally come in knocked out or drop dead (not literally) without a word before we treat them. Your fainting sequence offered refreshing change."

"Well, I'm glad to have been of service and entertainment," she observed dryly. "Now please call the nurse; I wanna get out of here."

"Woah there speedy," he said, holding up his hands in disbelief, "you need proper rest before heading out. But good thing that your head was so empty. Otherwise it would have broken the desk."

"Haha," she rolled her eyes. "Ichigo, has anyone ever told you how funny and absolutely charming you are?"

Wha? That caught him off guard. Was he hearing things? She, the ultimate bitch queen of Wilford (she had already gained that title despite her only having been enrolled for half a day) openly praising him? Her face was impassive, and she was staring through him as if he blended in perfectly with the dark cabinets behind him.

Ichigo gaped at her, mouth flapping open and shut, trying to figure out that puzzling enigma in front of him.

Yes! He came up with something. "My aunt once-"

"Didn't think so. I would have doubted their sanity."

"You little!" He sprang up from his chair, knocking over a small, sinuous plant by the window in his anger.

"Are you going to attempt to strangle a poor, innocent girl?" Those animated eyes again. He couldn't bear to do that to the face it belonged to. Yes, he declared to himself, this girl's eyes are way too nice for her personality.

His fist retracted halfway during its flight toward Rukia's face. "Argh! I can't do this!" He settled on slapping himself on the forehead. "You are so impossible." He sank into the edge of her bed, only to be kicked off when she pushed him off with her little feet.

"Ichigo?" Her voice cut through the beeps of the persistent heartbeat monitor.

"Yes?" he responded tiredly. "If it's not a life or death matter, please shut up and let me wallow in my misery."

"No. I refuse. You have no jurisdiction over my tongue."

"I know," he conceded, "that's why my life sucks."

"As if any of your little comments are better!" Rukia's cheeks puffed out and she crossed her arms. "Anyways, this is just a small, harmless little question."

"Knowing you, I really doubt that."

She pressed on, disregarding his comment: "Has anyone ever told you how clumsy and inept you are?"

Okay, understand this. Ichigo's been having a long day. He woke up at five to get to Wilford on time, and he had gotten approximately three hours of sleep the night before. Not the best plan for returning to school, but nevertheless what Ichigo indulged in. Excuse his next moment's mental lapses in logic and reasoning.

"Um…" ( _Ichigo's innermind mechanics in progress_:) Processing… Dumb girl first insults with a "has anyone ever told you…" prompt. Identical girl repeating same inquiry and expecting output…scanning empty vastness also referred to as 'brain' for possible answers. Awaiting response.

"Um, I think… yes…?"

"Yeah?" Rukia smirked readily. "Well, I agree with them."

"No," he said hurriedly once he realized his mistake, "I take that back…no, NO!"

"Too late." Rukia's face was beyond smug. It was more like a gloating, triumphant 'haha I just kicked your butt (brain) for two consecutive times!' kinda deal. Rukia congratulated herself on that one.

A door snapped open in the distance. Rukia jumped involuntarily, her eyes instantly springing back into focus from her relapse, feet already dangled over the edge of the hospital bed, poised to take off.

"Sheesh, it's just a door, midget. No need to get worked up."

Rukia nodded, a bit embarrassed that she couldn't just turn off her old Society habits at will. Sometimes, too much Alertness and Reaction 101 got you into trouble.

At that moment, the closed door to their ward swung open, revealing a flushed Ryo. "Kurosaki-kun," she panted lightly, "Sensei requests that you come back to class immediately, for the first essay assignment."

Ichigo slowly stood up with a weird look, while Rukia simply looked on. The slender girl's cheeks were uncharacteristically red, and there was something odd about her being here that Rukia couldn't place.

"And she sent me the class's future valedictorian? That made a whole lot of sense…"

"Ehh, you can go back," Rukia supplied to Ichigo, all smiles and shining teeth. "The great Kurosaki-kun can't let little ole me come between him and a precious essay assignment, now can he?"

Ichigo cracked his knuckles, but exercised admirable restraint on his next words. "I'll call sensei to make sure. Thanks anyways, Ryo," he said, placing a heavy emphasis on 'Ryo' while his eyes scoffed at Rukia's superficial attitude. Rukia smiled angelically.

When Ichigo was out in the hall and placing the call, Ryo shortened the distance between them two and Rukia blinked at her speed. Orihime had told her that Ryo was a renowned sprinter on the track team, but…

"Yes?" Rukia asked.

"Stay away from Kurosaki-kun if you know what's good for you, Kuchiki. He's been an instrumental part of our class's comic relief program, and so we'd appreciate it if his spirit wouldn't be broken by some self-important girl." Ryo stood tall and erect over Rukia, hands placed firmly on her hips. "Understood?"

Rukia covered her laughter up with a bit of dignity by giggling girlishly behind her hands. What she felt like doing was to question the girl's true aims, but her forward nature would incriminate what the records (that she planted in the office) said about her. "Well, first of all, I think your Kurosaki-kun is too dogged to let my comments interfere with his daily bursts of nonsense, and second, I see no reason NOT to continue to seek entertainment with the one whom others get to relieve their boredom of."

Ryo looked beyond mad, seething and looking as if she was ready to do something violent to Rukia that would put Ichigo to shame. Rukia merely reached over Ryo with an 'excuse me' to get a newspaper, and began reading some nonsense about stocks. Instead of seeing that the Ramen industry had a particularly good haul this year, Rukia could only speculate (and when Rukia speculated, things usually tended to be accurate), that more than friendly classroom concern of Ichigo was what drove Ryo to interrogate her like this.

When it was apparent to Ryo that Rukia was having none of it, and really not prepared to succumb to her insinuating threats, she flipped her hair importantly and stalked away with a huff. "Remember what I said, Kuchiki," were her last words before she brushed passed the doorframe.

In the hall, Ichigo had just received word from the teacher that he was permitted to stay, as per the nurse's request. In fact, he had noted the apparent surprise in Nekai-sensei's tone when he'd mentioned Ryo's role in the matter. According to his teacher, Ryo had left to go to the restroom, and not for him.

He turned around as he hung up, and Ryo passed him right that moment. "Excuse me please, Kurosaki-kun," she intoned lightly, with a slight inclination of her head. "it seems that you must stay. Thank you for taking care of that liability."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow but returned to Rukia's room. "So what was that all about?" he asked, meaning Ryo's appearance.

Rukia didn't want to talk about it. If that thick-skulled idiot couldn't see the most obvious sign of infatuation presented right in front of him, well…Rukia wasn't going to help him any. She decided to interpret the question as to why she was in the hospital.

"Uh, I passed out?" Rukia gave him the 'are you stupid or something, well I shouldn't bother, of course you are' look that she was so good at (Ichigo assumed she practiced it everyday in front of her mirror). "What does it look like?"

"What it looked like," he said slowly easing back into a chair, "was that someone forgot to eat breakfast and lunch."

"Wrong. I ate lunch. Orihime offered some of hers to me." An edge of impatience crept into her voice, for she didn't have a clue of what Ichigo was trying to say with that weird, shocked expression that registered on his face.

Ichigo sweatdropped. This was going to be hard. "Umm, just a question."

Rukia stayed silent, and he took that as her sign for him to proceed on. "Did you stop to ask Orihime what was in it?"

Her violet orbs flickered hesitantly, fearing a test in his words. "What?" she snapped suspiciously, "are you accusing Orihime of trying to poison me?"

"Psh, no," he held up his hands, shaking his head vigorously. "'Course not. But…before you accepted it, did you see anyone around you reacting weird?"

Rukia's nose scrunched in an effort to remember."Well, to be honest, I thought I saw Tatsuki waving her arms behind Orihime's back frantically. I took it that she wanted some, but she already had a lunch and when I offered to share my portion, she kind of blanched."

"That doesn't surprise me in the least," Ichigo muttered. "Thing is, Orihime's infamous for her…interesting concoctions."

"The color was a bit…off," Rukia admitted as she brushed her hair into place and warily eyed the pills set out on the wooden stand beside her. Didn't Ichigo mention something about the nurse going to get more? It was useless, and probably would be a pain going down, and seeing how she was going to go to the Society that day, this whole clinic thing was rather pointless. The fourth division would no doubt be much more effective. "But I didn't see anything wrong with it."

"God, I feel sorry for you." Seeing Rukia's slightly skeptical look, he added, "I think today's Bean Paste Tuesday. It means that the stuff she packed contained red bean."

"Umm, but the thing I ate today was green."

"That's the problem," he explained. "Regardless of the other ingredients she tosses in there, there's sure to be red bean on Red Bean Tuesday. It's like a weird tradition that she never breaks, to have that in there."

"Oh, I think I'm going to be sick."

He looked at her, pitifully clutching her abdomen. If he didn't know better, he would have called her defenseless. "I really don't blame you. I found it out with experience four years ago. I've never been able to look another red bean bun in the eyes after."

"How can they have eyes?" Rukia demanded incredulously, regaining former vitality with surprising alacrity. "You're stupid beyond all reason."

An irritated twitch latched itself to Ichigo's forehead. "Figure of speech, woman!"

"Well," she sniffed, "you could have expressed it better."

"Since when have you turned into a grammar nazi?"

"Since you started being stupid. Come on, Ichigo, stop arguing with me. Anyhow, what's the time?"

He obeyed her, only because he saw the reason in her suggestion. Her command was the best thing that had come out of her mouth all day. Arguing with Rukia was like jumping off a cliff knowing that you'd die, and Ichigo was smart enough to swallow his pride and just go along with it.

He thought about it and mentally calculated. "It's been about fifteen minutes since you've come here…"

Rukia stiffened considerably on her cot. "Meaning?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes and craned his neck into the hallway to read the time on a clock suspended above the nurse's desk. "That it's 1:30. That's generally how time is perceived, right?"

Rukia flew out of the bed before he could stop her.

"Frick!" she swore softly as the various needles attached to her ripped off her body. The covers pooled in heaps around her feet, and she inspected herself with satisfaction. She was still in her uniform, and for that, she was eternally grateful. It would have been horrible, she shuddered, to have found herself clad in a hospital gown. She would have forever wondered who had changed her. Rukia would never openly ask that degrading question, and she wasn't sure she would have like the answer from Ichigo.

Ichigo flinched for her when the last needle was plucked, taut, from her skin. Man, that's gotta hurt. However, despite seeing her toils, he aimed a deadpan command at her.

"Watch it, dumbass," he scoffed openly, "these things are fragile. Anyways, the bathroom is to the left of the hall."

Halfway across the room, Rukia stopped and regarded him. "I'm not going to the bathroom," she said curtly. "And do you really care about the precious equipment more than lives?"

"That has no relevance," he snorted. "You spilling a drop of blood is hardly worth the thousands of dollars of technology destroyed."

"True that, but what do you value more, Ichigo, lives or money?"

"Of course lives, dumbass!" He couldn't believe she was asking him such a nobrained question. With his dad's clinic and all the dilapidated facilities in Karakura, he had come to appreciate lives a whole lot more than the false glamour that came hand in hand with money. Money never stopped a life's departure; infact, it almost always incited death.

"Let me rephrase it." She didn't even know why she really bothered to ask for his opinion. Maybe it was to test Ichigo's near-nonexistent brain capacity…or maybe it was because she cared? Nah, couldn't have been the latter, she shrugged as she shook the thought off. She whirled around to face him in midstep, beige uniform sashaying when she tapped easily up to meet his eyes (Well, chest. She was a bit on the short side.)

"Power, wealth, and unlimited control," Rukia ticked off unflinchingly, "or sacrifice, subservience, but with your own work and choices. It's more than likely that the second choice would lead ultimately to a luxurious lifesty—"

"Did you not hear me the first time, retard? I don't give a frick if I live in a rat's hole; money will always just be forever made of paper. Lives however, are made of… I dunno. More than paper, anyways," He argued flusteredly, blundering on when he couldn't find that appropriate term teasing him on the tip of his tongue. "It's apparent you're short, but being deaf on top of that? How many frikin handicaps can one person have?"

_WHAM_

Ichigo had never known that a plastic wastebasket was positioned conveniently close by. He also didn't know they made very good projectiles when thrown by aggravated midgets.

You learned something new everyday.

"Hmph," Rukia allowed herself to gloat a little.

"I'm so going to get you back you little…Oh, well, no pun intended," he added nastily. "What grade are you going to be in this year?"

Wrinkling her nose and sticking out her tongue, she replied, "Not kindergarden, unlike someone. And-" she added when she saw the spark of irritation ignite in his eyes and the twitch of his fingers, "don't you feel rather guilty to be attempt to maim a poor, newly emancipated patient? Anyways, you still choose lives?"

"What kind of a person do you think I am, Rukia?"

"To tell you the truth?" Her voice question snapped crisply down the hall, and her smoldering eyes met his amber ones. "I don't know. That's why I asked. Anyhow, thanks for bringing me to this clinic thing. I have a notion that it wasn't your idea though."

"Yeah…" he said awkwardly. Who knew that the midget had a drop of decency in her to thank him?

"Hey, where are you going?" Ichigo followed her out of the room as she wound herself in the labyrinth-esque clinic. "The exit's that way, but you can't leave just yet. The nurse said—"

The door slammed shut. She was gone.

He had a lot of explaining to do to the nurse when she came and found Rukia gone. He slapped his hand to his head. Damn her!

He was about to report her leave to the nurse when he noticed a nondescript scrap of paper flutter down near the door. It must have fallen out with Rukia's clothes in her hurry.

Ichigo carefully unfolded it and checked if she was really gone. Good. There was no trace of her anywhere. He didn't stop to ponder why she had disappeared so fast. The paper was beckoning enticingly at him, and he succumbed to its invitation.

He sighed after he read it. It wasn't anything interesting. No embarrassing information, nor was there any material for potential blackmail on there. How disappointing. A sole line of what appeared to be an address was printed in the center in precise script, and his lips curled upwards briefly because of the resemblance between the lettering and it's owner. The typewriter like print was just as frigid and no nonsense as Rukia, and he stuffed the paper in his pocket quickly, if not a bit guiltily.

Ichigo glanced up hurriedly, in fear that she was still nearby and he had missed her diminutive figure the first time he checked. She was still gone...not that he had expected her to linger.

She was too quick, too mercurial, too caught up in whatever else that no one could glimpse at the being behind those profound eyes. It was especially strange how she always seemed to be whisked away by the winds when she left, and he noted with a twisted realization that she had been doing that a lot, despite the short time he had known her.

What the heck was up with this girl?

* * *

PLEASE DON'T KILL ME. I know I promised some of you that this would have been out two weeks earlier, but school and AP and life mumbles in defense and stops once she had no sold excuse. AHEM. Anyways. 

I'm writing an awful lot of IchiRuki catfights, aren't I? Don't worry. The next chapter they go their separate ways for a while, and the Society comes back full force.

Thank you guys for staying with me. It means so much! Loveee, Jerkess.


	11. Mission Accomplished

Disclaimer: I don't own, for the hundredth time. -doesn't make the sad truth any easier to bear, though-

**--**

_"Give me a reason to end this discussion,  
To break with tradition.  
To fold and divide." -Motion City Soundtrack_

**Chapter 11 **

**--**

Rukia arrived at the Society complex just on time…well, barely. She was still muttering incoherent curses at Ichigo, though she knew his well intent (or, at least, the nurse's), when she got there panting and feeling rather light-headed. Her white haired, easy-going captain, Ukitate-taichou, was patiently waiting in the dispatch department. She signed in through a fingerprint identifier and donned a camouflage suit quickly.

"Sorry that I'm late," Rukia said uncomfortably as they walked up to a Society vehicle, "but I was at Wilford and then I got food poisoning-"

"Don't even worry about it," Ukitate-taichou assured her. He helped her up a steep door incline. "I completely understand. I like my officers talented and efficient anyways." The silver-haired man smiled kindly at Rukia and handed her the briefing while beckoning at her to keep on filing into the back of the car. She followed, albeit a bit guiltily. Her captain's kind words brought was exactly what her brother had warned her of; the possibility that she would neglect her Society duties because of trivialities on Wilford's behalf.

She sat down a bit nervously. Her taichou did not notice her incessant fumbling of her seatbelt. If he did, he chose to ignore it and still spoke to her patiently.

"I'm sure you have the overall coordinates…yes, the Karakura Town Center. Equipment ready?"

"Yes sir. Are Kiyone and Sentaro on this mission also?"

Ukitate-taichou laughed quietly and his eyes wrinkled in laughter. "You know I can't group the two together on an assignment without risking the Society! They would be the last ones out of a burning building, probably arguing who would be the one carrying my documents or something."

"True," Rukia smiled. "Though it must be nice having two people vying to be your fukutaichou."

Ukitate-taichou sighed and then coughed. Rukia helped him with his breathing and he signed off the last people arriving for the mission.

"Yet it makes me feel like," he said again after his coughs had subsided, "an incapable, old old man, having to appear like I need the help of two able persons to function. I actually preferred it when Kaien was here. But those are old times."

Rukia was going to argue that she didn't think that Ukitate-taichou was inept or hopeless. Those were words that would better fit the new recruits that they've been having to train, but were miles away from describing her Captain. In fact, she was quite sure he was the kindest and most responsible taichou in the Gotei 13. Well, aside from her brother, that is. And Kaien…

"Anyhow," Ukitate-taichou resumed loudly, probably feeling that the silence given off by his subordinate was verging on heavy, "there was another uprising near the Niwa district, and the 6th division was short some people, due to the Morutake incident a while back. I volunteered Kiyone to go. Sentaro," Ukitate nodded to the aforementioned blackhaired deathgod to start the engines, "will be coming with."

They quickly left the Society's old warehouse, leaving behind the semblance of order in the lot maintained and weeded sporadically by the fourth division. A minute into their departure from the Seiretei district, where things weren't as bad, the squalor of nearby Rukongai began to assert itself. Dwellings thatched up with a rough looking plaster made for cover. Ratted tires and the like lined the street, and Rukia had to clutch at the hand bar to avoid from bumping up and down from the potholes in the road.

She couldn't imagine anyone living in the drafty old structures clumped in indecisive groups along the way, but a lot of people did. Not only did they let in the rain, sludge, or whatever else the sky decided to inflict upon the earth, but during the unbearably hot periods, the roofs were prone to cracking and caving in on families. It was so hard to fathom…life in the Society was not luxurious or easy by any means, now that she had visited Wilford, but to wander through life wasting time in those dumps…well, she saw a reason for doing her job now; so that the already desperate people would have a last defense against the cruelty of the wealthy.

However, Rukia had lived among squalor. Not that she remembered any of it, though.

Before Byakuya had summoned her to live with him, she had supposedly lived like the wide-eyed, gaunt folk outside. The word is supposedly, because she cannot remember any of it. It all seemed so impossible for her that she should have forgotten what it was like. Of course, she had only been eight, yet time after time, a nagging at the back of her mind kept on making her question if she actually had lived, really lived, before then. It certainly seemed to her that she didn't: one didn't very well just not remember what happened, however young you were. But Society life had swept her along, not letting her question authority, engulfing her in the fast and complete process of 'Purifying' her into the organization.

Renji had come along a year after, claiming that he had known her since before the Society. They let him in after he demonstrated his abilities in patience (not budging until they let him speak to General Yamamoto), resourcefulness (tripping a seated officer with his own boots to gain keys to the General's office) and –dumb- muscle (breaking down the General's door once he figured he'd stolen the wrong keys). Anyways, he had some how found his way into the Society, and they couldn't very well let him out with their secret.

She herself had no recollection of knowing him. Not that she truly minded a person seeking her friendship, anyways. His brooding silences and awkward attempts to gain her trust were sincere, if not dogged.

. He had insisted on trying to make her remember him through various means, yet beside a dull memory of someone that could have been Renji, she could come up with nothing. He had told her incredible stories of their childhood—that they had once rafted on the filthy river on the north side of Rukongai, that Rukia had once tricked Renji into adopting a bunny by guilting him into believing that it was ill--. Even if she hadn't known Renji, or if he was just highly delusional, she had been grateful for his unwavering friendship- not that anybody else had attempted to befriend her. Feeble attempts from teammates were made, but it wasn't until three years into her training that Kaien-dono had come along. He had saved her from her solitude and the whispers in the halls. He was her kind vice-captain that understood her…

The only one that seemed to have a problem with the spunky black-haired fukutaichou was Renji, and upon further critical analysis done by Matsumoto a while back, was probably mostly contributed to jealousy on his part.

Rukia had been so filled with life at that point, when Kaien was alive. She was at the top of her game with her newfound friends, and then--

One day she was called through the rain, out to the field, out to Kaien. She had been so confused that night. Yet all the torrents of rain and lashings of thunder couldn't wash away the blurry nightmare of charred red…

No. She would not think of that anymore.

Like a mom persuading her stubborn child, Rukia forced herself review the Society procedure again. _Go in, make sure no civilians are present, hold off the empties, leave_. _Go in, make sure no civilians are present, hold off the empties, leave_ … The routine was so embedded in her mind that she had no need of repeating them, but she did, like any dutiful member.

"To the right one more block," Akon suddenly directed after about a half an hour later. Akon was a high ranking officer in the 12th department. The twelfth department was in charge of the intelligence aspect of the Society, as well as the technological advances of the organization. It was lead by Mayuri-taichou and his fukutaichou, his genetically engineered daughter, Nemu. It was this division that predicted future crime locations due to information from investigations, analyzed evidence, and maintained the Society's extensive database. The coordinates of each and every mission, like this one, were provided by the 12th division.

Their inconspicuous vehicle pulled up in an alley, just as shabby and cluttered like the countless ones that they had passed during their silent journey. Black clouds had gathered ominously overhead, the warm rays of sunlight having been obscured considerably by the condensation in the air. The camo-suits they wore were saturated, giving the people wearing them a heavy, weighed down feel.

"Sentaro," Ukitate-taichou commanded once everyone had congregated around him, "please stake out the perimeter and make sure no innocents are present. Everyone, switch your headsets to channel 1100 for further updates. Rukia, you know what to do."

The team silently nodded, and Rukia waved once before activating the invisi-button on her suit. She shimmered slightly in the air, as if indecisive about vanishing from view, and then disappeared suddenly.

On each mission when more than two operatives were required, Rukia would always be sent as a scout. Though the camo-suits mask movement and visibility of outsiders well, that did not prove the same for sound. Rukia's small size and lithe body allowed for smooth and almost seamless movement. She was always given the honor of scouting the sites and escape routes. Left unspoken was the fact that Rukia would most likely be the first annihilated if any part of the plan failed.

She liked these missions. There was no one to kill, no one to abduct; they simply had to prevent the bank from being depleted. It would be simple enough. Rukia fixed her headgear.

The nonexistent security of the dank bank was still. She noted with satisfaction that the windows were not locked: well, not satisfaction, since it meant that it was harder for the members to secure the premises, but it made for a quick getaway.

When she relayed all that information back to Ukitate-taichou and regrouped with the rest, the first group of Empties arrived.

They came in sleek cars and carried guns with small calibers. Thank goodness it was so, because Rukia didn't feel up to fending off Glocks. She positioned herself close to the entrance and watched with calm as Sentaro fell into place behind her. She tapped soundlessly on her helmet and warned Ukitate-taichou of their appearance. He was on the dusty floor above them, closest to the endangered vaults.

She gritted her teeth. Why do they want to rob this dingy place? Weren't their other crimes enough?

"I like the fact that no one's here to bother us." An Empty declared as he barged in from the entrance, swaggering as if he owned the place.

Rukia wrinkled her nose and turned away briefly in disgust. She failed the Society in the fact that she still fear, still feel immensely the pure adrenaline-pumped emotion of fear and despair, despite the years at the Academy.

"Well," the tall man prowled close to the walls, "let's see where the goodies are, won't we?"

But he didn't get to check. As soon as he turned away to inspect a direction not facing her, she whipped out and hit him squarely below the head and the shoulders, causing him to slump forward without sound.

She hoped he wasn't dead…and he wasn't. The lean man was merely passed out. She winced in disgust at his smell. He stunk of the muddy river and of fish. Rukia assumed that he had been recruited in Empty purposes very recently. Too bad.

She doled out a small amount of sedatives from her pockets and forced it into the man's mouth. He would be out for a while.

Next, she checked on the head set to see how the others were doing. A man named Daisuke, from her division, was holding his own pretty well. Sentaro, however, was having a spot of trouble with two intruders.

Sentaro saw her coming and ducked. She quickly slipped a hand into her suit, whisking out her prized butterfly knife. It plungedstraight into the carotid artery of the offending Empty.

She flipped her knife easily back into itself and they headed out front. The rule was, immobilize, or if not possible, go for the kill. In the precarious balance between justice and indignant 'righteousness', it was kill or be killed. Rukia preferred the first option, thank you very much.

"I think that's all," Sentaro said slowly as the two sampled their work in the dusty light. Rukia nodded. Four limp Empties were sprawled haphazardly on the ground. The mission had been simple.

She wasn't complaining.

Rukia gingerly closed a dead Empty's eyes as a last tribute. "We should go check on the vaults, just in case." But before the two Death Gods could make for the vault room, a sudden thunderous voice boomed after them.

"Hold it right there, you two!"

Rukia and Sentaro glanced at each other for a split second before diving their own separate ways. Not a moment too soon, as a black bomb hurtled at them and exploded right at their feet.

Rukia knew these bombs. They weren't aimed to kill. Their purpose was to expose. Black fumes unfurled dangerously close to her body, and she instinctively closed off her nose with a sleeve. Not only did the smoke serve to negate the effects of the camo-suits by billowing around their forms, thus disclosing their location, it held potently noxious chemicals within them. The Empty had been pretty smart in trying to weed them out. Otherwise, the Empties were pitted against almost invisible opponents.

She rolled under a chair and quickly took in the smirking Empty not five feet away from her. His relaxed, confident stance was a weakness, and without much thought, she assessed his weapons. The filter mask he had on would be cumbersome, but she would have been lying if she had said the Desert Eagle pistol dangled in his hands was not frightening.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, little death gods!"

Not the smartest move, Empty. You simply don't allude to Rukia's height, however indirectly or unintentionally, and get away with it.

Rukia lunged for his throat, with her trusty knife gripped tightly in her white knuckles. Yet luck was on the Empty's side, for he lashed out wildly with his gun at the moment of impact. Rukia's size prevented her attack, and instead, she got hurled backwards into the wall with by the barrels of the gun.

She grunted and managed to heave herself upright.

"Wow, aren't you persistent, little deathgod." the man cooed into the air. "You've survived for five minutes already. But hey," he smiled with his eyes wide, "let's be optimistic. Maybe you won't make the sixth one!"

He strode over to where Rukia was, and she did all she could to stay quiet and not attract more attention.

"Oh, don't play coy, I know you're there." The Empty swung his arm out and it hit Rukia's stomach harshly before she could recoil. "Bingo."

Well isn't Mr. Empty quite the presumptuous offender? Rukia thought, swallowing the bile coming up from her gut. Pride always came before the fall. Without giving him any more mercy, she whipped out a small blade from her suit and plunged it deep into him.

In the nether regions. Talk about ouch.

The man writhed silently on the ground, and Rukia thought he must have had relatives resembling eels, or that he had had too many noodles. At any rate, she was satisfied, and more importantly, the enemy was immobilized.

"Wait…a minute…" the form upon the floor lay surprisingly still. "Come a bit-a little…closer, death god…"

Cautiously, Rukia got on all fours and kept her weapons poised and cocked. "Speak, ten seconds."

"Heh," what was showing of the man's face grinned, "I don't need that many."

Before she could react, a resounding crack filled the room, and a wall of orange fury tore at her skin. The room was on fire. The thatched walls burned and cackled, and Rukia forced her hand over her mouth.

Damn those suicidal Emptie! Rukia pushed passed the mass that was the Empty. What was defeat something that hard to accept? Anticipating a failure, he must have bundled himself up with bombs and deactivated them when there was no more chance left for him. She was going to let him live, too…

Now that was too late. Time to concentrate on the living. One glance at her mask showed that her squad was almost all outside. No distress signals from Ukitate-taichou—whatever the Empties were there for had already been removed and safely stowed. That meant she herself could also leave.

The bank roof had caved in with the initial impact of the suicide bomb. Rukia would have been hit directly too, had she not sidestepped in time. Splinters of charred and sizzling plastic chairs were strewed across her way. She had almost crawled through the second landing when a scream of utter terror pierced her.

"AHH FIRE! IT'S HOT!!" Someone yelped.

Well aren't we a genius. Who was this incompetent Society member that decides to freak out? Rukia almost dismissed the cry before she heard a second scream. "MOMMY!"

With that word, Rukia stood paralyzed, one foot down the stairs, and the other still on the burning landing. She had been mistaken. That was an Innocent still in building, not a Death god. The kid was probably less than ten years old. And worse yet, it was her fault for not getting him out.

Through gritted teeth, she tore through the fire towards the voice.

"HELP!" she heard again. _I'm coming, I'm coming_, Rukia thought desperately. _Just a few more closed doors, and you'll be safe_. She could feel the boy's fear choking her, or maybe she had just let her own panic consume her. The smoke was blocked by her helmet, but the air filter would only last so long, and the inescapable heat…

At last, in the behind the janitorial door, she wrested out a shaking figure. "Mommy?" it sobbed hopefully.

"No," Rukia intoned as calmly as she could, "but I'm here to help. Don't say anything more, and cover your mouth and nose with this."

Brilliant brown eyes bored trustingly into hers, and Rukia fitted her breathing mask onto the boy with shaking fingers. He was about to pass out from the fumes, whereas Rukia could still cope. Who needs oxygen?

With the boy securely fitted, Rukia heaved him up into her arms. Nevermind that she weighed only a bit more than him. She had the practice coupled with a resolute sense of guilt at not having brought the boy to safety in the first place.

The descent was excruciating. Without breathable air, Rukia ran half blindly to the stairs, with a 50 pound boy clinging to her back as if possessed. All around her, beams were collapsing, narrowly missing Rukia and blocking her route.

Five minutes later saw Rukia sprawled breathlessly in an alley a mere forty feet from the bank still caught in a raging fire. Kiyone, one of her best friends in the 4th squad, was bent over the brown haired boy, who had since fallen into a fitful sleep induced by a harmless chemical she administered.

"Hey," Rukia croaked out quietly as she gingerly crouched by the boy she just saved, "will he be okay?"

Kiyone smiled briefly at her before turning back to her patient. "He's doing the best we could hope for under these circumstances. I've given him a sedative because he's too young for a memory wipe. You did a great job, as always. But really, Rukia," Kiyone admonished, "you've _got_ to stop throwing caution to the winds! Taking your headgear off to save him? We can afford to lose a janitor's son, but not such a valuable Death God!"

Rukia's face burned from her error, but she felt she had to defend herself. "I know. But you should have heard him crying for help, Kiyone. I don't think you could have just left him there if you were in my shoes. I was being selfish, really, because _I_ couldn't stand to leave him in there."

Rukia's soft spoken friend acceded with a sigh. "That's why we need Death Gods like you. We've all been so trained in procedures, practicality, plans…we need some of your humanity and sympathy on missions, even if it's against Society code."

"I really can't help it," Rukia explained frankly. "It's like I'm compelled to do something. However much I try, I can't but feel the their horror and dread…"

Ukitate taichou finished with the other Death God's reports and hurried over. "Rukia, thank you for doing this mission flawlessly, and no, before you start protesting your guilt with me, I know that that innocent was supposed to be taken out before, but that's the least of our worries. And," with a fatherly glance at the equally silvermaned Kiyone, "I'm sure Kiyone had reproached you enough about the unnecessary rescue, so I won't chew you out too much about that. We only had one severe wound this time with Hiroto, but it's nothing that our wonderful 4th can't fix. Get ready to leave in about 10."

"Yes, taichou. I'll be right there after we return this boy."

They carried him on a stretcher to a more noticeable place where the mock police would find him later. There was no immediate danger anymore, not that the 'police' would have done anything useful. The resident 'law enforcers' were no more than crooks at face value and Empties at heart. The only reasons the Society was not instilled as peace officers instead were because of its selectivity and unconventional solutions, namely assassination.

With a remorseful sigh, Rukia left him covered with a simple blanket on the other side of the street. She really would have liked to know his name. A first name, nickname…anything. Just as a token of thanks. But the Society had no room for trivialities like that, and Rukia bade him a silent farewell.

"Cheer up," Kiyone said with a playful poke to her side, "maybe you'll see him some day, and he'll remember you. Not that the Society would be too happy, but still. Don't look so down. I've heard that there may be a surprise when we get back tonight."

The squad was packing up. The one wounded man, Hiroto, was being crowded about as the other members were offering condolences. Rukia leaned in to talk to him.

His wound on his arm wasn't deep; it only looked intimidating as it was bleeding freely and crusting slightly around the elbow creases. Rukia used the little bit of healing skills she had to temporarily stop the bleeding while members of the 4th division arrived with back up and hauled him away.

"Hey Rukia," her squadmate Hiroto joked between clenched teeth, "heard you stabbed someone where the sun don't shine today!"

"It was the only place I could reach!" she defended earnestly, "and come on, he was an Empty." She smiled an encouraging smile as he cringed at his wound. "Anyways, how are you holding up?"

"Pretty good, pretty good. I haven't started throwing up my innards yet, and your friend ,the pretty nurse here, assures me that it's a good sign."

It was Rukia's turn to poke Kiyone while the 4th squader blushed crimson. "Well, I'm sorry, dashing Death God," Kiyone said, "but you're going to have to stay in the residency at 4th squad because of your injuries."

"Ahh! Whatever you do, don't let them take me!" He joked feebly as a small white van rolled into a halt behind him. "Society knows what Unohana-taichou puts in her herbal medicines!"

Rukia laughed along with her taichou, waving goodnaturedly at the hapless wounded. "Haha. And thank goodness we don't."

"Yes," Ukitate-taichou nodded with a small smile. "I've become all too familiar with the 4th division. Ahh the days of innocence when I was able to swallow pills without wondering what went into it!"

--

So... I'M SO SORRY! PLEASE SPARE MY LIFE AND LET ME LIVE!

School has been more than hectic this year. Mock trial just ended, but IMPACT had just started again. Needless to say, yearbook and a plethora of other activities have officially taken over my life. I apologize again, once for my lack of updates and secondly for this rather dry chapter. I felt like this story needed some action and background on what Rukia did for a living.

Be ready for some heavy duty soul society AU action next chapter! Please review...that way I actually have more inspiration o

Love, Jerkess

February 22nd, 2008


	12. Dorm Drama

Disclaimer: I recall quite clearly that it was "Bleach, by Tite Kubo" not "Bleach, by Jerkess".

--

"Home is where the heart is." Old proverb.

Chapter 12

--

After a trying first day at school and her mission, Rukia was exhausted.

Now it was the weekend, and Rukia was walking swiftly toward her quarters at the Society, ready to crash into a comfy couch and just pig out on mango ice cream or whatever else Isane might have left in the fridge.

Who knew that ballet, Wilford, and Society duty would take up so much time? But of course, she chided herself, she knew that that was going to happen. Society work had always been draining and strenuous, and her added tasks this year were not helping matters. Yet Rukia was glad of all the distractions in her life. For once, she was able to take her mind off of the events that had occurred a year ago. She felt useful, in place, and though Wilford was a rather large facility, she knew that she was at least wanted and could contribute there.

As she approached her dormitories, she had a fleeting regret about not taking up the offer for rooming at Wilford. It would have been convenient, comfortable, and not to mention exciting to have lived on campus. But… her funds were limited, and she wanted for her money to stretch as much as possible. Besides, her Society dorm had been where she had lived for a hefty chunk of her days, and she wasn't too keen on giving up the age-long bunk that she shared with Kiyone.

She heard the discordant sounds of trouble long before she even smelt the telltale signs of lilac that she planted near her abode, dorm 4-13.

Five minutes later, Rukia was inside the decorated dorm, had found Matsumoto, pulled her aside, and was breathing down her back. "Matsumoto," she began calmly, speaking in what she hoped was a reasonable voice that still carried her disguised displeasure, "why are all these 。。。_people_ in my dorm?"

"For a party, of course." Matsumoto waved bubbly over Rukia's head to a newcomer that just hefted a huge stereo system through their door.

"Did you seek my consent before planning this?" Rukia's patience was wearing a TAD thin. "I come home from a class 4 mission and there's a huge party I never was told about in MY dorm? Hardly the welcome I hoped for…"

"No…but I figured you would need cheering up after a hellish day at a school infested with Empties."

Rukia grinned. Picking apart excuses had always been her forte. "I never said that I was going to return this weekend. For all you knew, I could have decided to stay at Byakuya-sama's."

Matsumoto saw the truth in that and shifted slightly, adjusting her ruffly shirt. It was a quite revealing costume, and Rukia could almost swear that Matsumoto's futile tuggings and attempts to 'keep it up!' were just ploys to show more skin. Not that it really mattered here. The supervision around the Society was super strict and all piss and vinegar…that is, until come the weekends. The younger, more outgoing members were always conveniently left to their own devices, to which the more 'sophisticated' members turn a blind eye. (Partially because a certain captain or two no names mentioned Shunsui taichou happened to frequent those rendezvous quite often.)

"Anyhow," Matsumoto resumed good naturedly, having known Rukia too long to take her serious interrogations to heart, said, "but aren't you glad that our telepathic bond was strong enough that I arranged to the party when I knew you were going to come home?" Matsumoto's eyes twinkled happily, and Rukia had not the heart nor the energy to get worked up and angry.

She sighed again and Matsumoto leapt at her apparent submission. "So you're happy, and I'm happy…Everyone's happy!"

"Not quite. But," Rukia scolded once Matsumoto helped her with her backpack and was showing off her decorations and the new, unbreakable punch bowl (Let's just say that someone was looking at Hinamori with a bit of leperish intentions and…Hitsugaya was present…and the only convenient weapon at his height was the deceased punch bowl… Let's leave it at that.) "You know that the Karakura district has been on high alert ever since a month ago. We can't afford to let anything go wrong because of our selfishness at wanting to party."

A swish of air caught on Rukia's uniform, and she instinctively searched about her.

"--And that's were you have us slighted."

Rukia's head shot straight up upon recognizing that voice. "Renji!" Her face lit up immediately, and two fists met with a resounding crack.

"Damn it, Rukia, you didn't have to do it so hard." Renji, though grinning quite widely, was blowing on his smarting knuckles from their 'handshake'. It had been a silly tradition since their early days, and though Rukia had squawked indignantly at such primitive ways of greeting, its numerous years of use had worn the welcome as a habit into their minds.

"We have responsibly divided up duty for Karakura tonight," he informed Rukia importantly. "No more reckless fun for me."

Rukia rolled her eyes. Hadn't Renji sworn that every time they had a get together? Not that he usually stuck to the plan…He was by far the worst to hold his alcohol, and was always passed out by the time that his shift came. Rukia, being the devoted and rather maltreated friend that she was, always wordlessly shouldered Renji's task. A Renji strung out on sake was a scary Renji, and Rukia had a feeling that Karakura would actually be a lot _safer_ with Renji safely locked up in the Society complex.

"And your new attempt at following through to your vow is…?"she asked. If it was anything like last time's, she was convinced that it wouldn't work.

"This!" Matsumoto procured a rolled document from her, er, chest. "What?" she asked, almost offended, when Rukia gave her a weird look. "It fits, and I don't have room to put it in my sleeves!"

Taking the supposed ensurer of equal duty division from Matsumoto, Rukia crooked a skeptical eyebrow as she inspected the paper. "A sign up sheet? What are we in, second grade?"

"Nah." Renji sniffed the air, apparently scenting out something good to eat. "I heard that Hitsugaya himself is going to be enforcing the shifts."

"Hey, hey," Matsumoto protested, reaching out again to store the sign up sheet back into her chest, "Only I have the special privilege of calling him that. 'It's Hitsugaya-taicho to you!'" Her ability to mimic Hitsugaya's gruff tone was uncanny, and obtained a few chuckles.

"Speaking of which, how are you enjoying your special privilege of going to Wilford?" Renji turned to Rukia, his black eyes boring a hole into Rukia's. "Anything important happen?"

Matsumoto pushed past the two and apologized quickly. "I've already heard of this over the phone, so I'm going to see the guests coming in. Later!"

"You kept in touch with her?" Rukia noted the slight application of jealousy in his tone as Matsumoto disappeared into the throng of people around her. "Ever thought of calling me?"

Rukia smirked mischievously and sploshed a few drops of lemonade down Renji's front. He protested, squawking miffedly. "Watch it! It's my new costume. You like?"

"Pretty nice," Rukia observed wryly, "though I think a chicken outfit would have complemented your hair better."

"Oh shut up. But you gotta admit, dressing out as a cowboy was pretty creative."

"Yeah. I'm sure the creator of those costumes sure thought so too."

Renji flashed her a disaproving grin and handed her a cookie from a platter nearby. "Try these," he said, speaking with his mouthful, "they're really good. I think they are called girl scout cookies. Anyhow, I made the costume myself. What now?"

She eyed the cookie with apprehension before handing it back to Renji. "Oh god, you just touched it. I don't want to get food poisoning. No, really, I'm not hungry, ate at Wilford. But I was going to say, I was wondering why the costume really sucked. Now I know."

Renji got her back by forcing an ice cube down her shirt. "Did you say that just to spite me?" Renji smiled dangerously with another ice cube at the ready. "There's no shortage of ice around here."

Rukia smiled back innocently and pretended to dust dirt off of his shoulders in affirmation. Her response was wordless.

"I shouldn't have bothered asking. You stink, Rukia."

Rukia actually blushed. "I know, I know. I haven't taken a bath yet, and Sodeno Shirayuki works us hard. Not to mention it's soot, not sweat I'm covered with."

"I didn't say that literally, Rukia."

"Yet again, I know, I know."

It was the same. Everytime that she and Renji would meet, whether after a successful mission or from a tired day of uneventful patrol duty, they would always joke around a little before coming to more serious matters. Inwardly, Renji was pleased that even though she was going to Wilford, she still maintained the same cool familiarity with him, and he was content with that.

She still had her school things with her, so they both opted to talk in Rukia's room, where they could actually hear each other.

Renji flicked the lights on on instinct, and Rukia collapsed on her bunny-covered bunk. She chucked a pair of heavy, proper shoes at the wall, narrowly missing Kiyone's nightstand. "God, am I glad to be free. These shoes are like cheese graters upon my feet!"

It was Renji's turn to roll his eyes at her statement. "Whatever. Go take a shower before you stink up the whole room."

With familiarity, he got a towel from a low cabinet while Rukia removed her socks and gathered her wash things.

Five minutes later, Rukia strode out of the shower, fresh and presentable. Renji, who had been flipping idly through her text books, laid the book back onto her table and scoffed.

"Why are you wearing your school uniform?" Not that he minded, or anything. For most of the time that he had known her, she was always clad in practical clothing. Practical, as in no skirts or feminine nonsense…usually consisting of the formless Society garb. Most Society females complained ceaselessly about the fashion taboo of the uniforms, but Rukia never seemed to care. The change was pleasant, anyways, he decided. She looked…prim, to be sure, but less composed than what she would normally be comfortable with.

"Maybe because I have nothing else to wear?" Rukia asked, shaking her head in exasperation. "Look, it's a costume party, so thought I could go for the school girl approach." Rukia dried her hair on a towel, standing near a vent in hopes that the wind would aid her in her attempt. "If it really is too big on me, like I've been told countless times, I'll just go in my normal clothes."

Renji waved a hand absently. "It's fine, really. Anyways, at least going to Wilford gets you a convenient uniform. But you really need to get out more and go shopping or something."

Rukia dismissed his suggestion with an aloof gesture. "You're starting to sound like Orihime-chan." Dang. Her hair was being unusually stubborn and water- absorbent today. She had to resort to manual means of drying. Out came the blowdryer.

"Who's that?" He picked up her schedule and ticked off eight classes. "Damn your day's busy."

"You think? That's partly why I'm so pissed that Matsumoto decided to spring this 'welcome party' on me. Anyways, Orihime's a really nice girl. She takes after Matsumoto, if you get my drift."

Renji guffawed and was about to say something before Rukia cut in. "--And no, you may not meet her. She has a really protective friend that watches her like a hawk. The friend had a hard time accepting me, so I think big ugly men will be less than hospitably received."

"Are you saying that I'm a big ugly man?" Renji did something weird with his eyebrows so that the ink designs seemed to wiggle. He inspected himself critically in a mirror and flashed himself a stunning grin. "I don't know what you are talking about. Personally, I think I'm quite handsome."

"Right. And Hitsugaya-taichou will finally acknowledge the fact that he is shorter than me," she retorted in a sarcastic way. Rukia slung the towel over a chair and shot Renji an annoyed glance before cleaning up all the crap that Renji had taken from her bag. "Thanks for messing up my backpack," she said. "I really appreciate you getting my room disorganized, not like Kiyone doesn't do that either." She bustled about, still half heartedly trying to get ready for the party.

Renji only laughed at her empty, backhanded praises and took a plaque from the table and fingered it thoughtfully. It was the first plaque Rukia had ever won, and on the day of the competition, he still remembered sneaking out from behind Captain Ukitate's back (though Sentaro had later informed Renji that Ukitate had clearly observed him going out) and getting higher strung than Rukia when she competed. Memories.

"So, tell me about Wilford." He said to bring back the present.

Rukia paused infront of her vanity, her brush still laced halfway in her hair. She considered his question and set her hands down. "I guess it's okay. I mean, it's totally different from the Society, but not as bad as Matsumoto had dramatically predicted it."

"No Empties?"

"I wouldn't say that. There were a few potential ones, but most of the people there are normal kids on fundings and whatnot." Rukia saw Renji's intense expression from the mirror, and she sighed contently to reassure him. "But I'm really enjoying myself, Renji. It's totally fine there. You don't have to worry. I'm strong, dude!"

Renji snorted and turned away, a bit embarrassed that she had caught him staring at her.

"You keep on insisting that you're strong this, able at that, but Rukia, I think you've been putting too much pressure on yourself. Ballet, Wilford, the Society, and your art job…isn't that a bit much?"

Rukia's eyes shone brightly. Here we go again. Renji had always been overprotective, too concerned when he oughtn'd have been. Ever since their Rukongai days, Renji would always make sure that Rukia's sandals wouldn't have holes on the bottom (because he himself had a nasty fall before), and a plethora of other silly, cautious acts that to Rukia seemed to have bordered on paranoia. She appreciated and loved Renji for his little gruff fronts and his lame excuses, but for heavens sakes, she was an assassin, and he was too, if not a more adept one.

"No need to get your panties in a twist, Renji." Rukia fished out a key from under a pile of junk and opened a window. The Society's only vulnerable parts were its dorms, and all took great care to maintain secrecy, hence the precautions.

"The only Empty-like people I've met didn't really feel like mingling with little ole me, so I keep away." She shrugged matter of factly and resumed aerating the room. "They stand out from the crowd and like to push other people around. Hard to miss. Besides, I have nothing for them to steal."

Renji looked on idly as she tried futilely to pull down a reluctant blind. It wasn't going to get pulled down by itself. He eventually gave up on ignoring her gaze that clearly implied, "well, what are you waiting for? Help me already!" And he pushed the blind down easily.

"And you just took that shit from them?"

Rukia eyed Renji incredulously, as if not believing his words. "Of course not! What do you think I am, helpless?"

Renji tried to refrain from commenting, but it was just too tempting to correct Rukia.

His eyes lingered over the now closed blinds. "Well, if windows were any indication of your overall prowess…" He trailed off.

"Don't make me hurt you, Renji. Just because you're my best friend, a vice captain…_the _vice captain of my brother…doesn't mean I will hesitate."

"Alright, alright." Renji put up his hands in front of him in compliance and he suddenly hugged her and whispered. "It's good to have you back."

"No need to get all teary eyed on me." Rukia stiffened, and then relaxed with a happy sigh into her friend's arms.

Renji made a ghoulish face with an expression between protest and embarrassment and she laughed.

"Yeah, it feels good to back too. It's only been a week, you know, and we don't see each other that often, even when I lived at the Society."

"That's true. But why didn't you keep in touch? I would have escorted you to Wilford had I known."

They headed out of her dorm, Rukia's hair having dried considerably. Rukia thrust a key into the lock and locked up with a particular savageness at a particular chickenhead's idiocracy.

"Renji. Do you know what it would have looked like to have arrived on the first day with a body guard? What part of inconspicuous action do you _not_ understand?"

"Okay, Bitch Queen of January. You win." The halls were oddly empty, as all of the dorm's inhabitants were probably clustered around the kitchen or singing really bad karaoke. "You're still avoiding why you didn't tell me." There was that slightly desperate, slightly hurt timbre to his voice again.

Rukia sighed and stuck her hands in her skirt pockets. "The only reason I didn't call or whatever was because I merely speculated the fact that Byakuya-sama probably gave you more paperwork than I get homework. You know, I was looking out for you. Is that good enough for your insecure mind?"

Renji grinned and they both hurried up with the sound of the stereo blaring loudly from the next hallway. Renji nudged the door open with his foot and let Rukia glide past him.

"The party awaits."

--

I'm sorry I haven't been able to update in such a ridiculous long time. V.V Please forgive me. I lost inspiration for what seemed like a year; I haven't even watched Bleach since episode 140. I'm not so caught up in the manga, but I have passed chapter 300. –hides in shame-

But I'm back. And I have everything about this story planned out. Count on getting around…24-30 chapters of "The Music Box". All the plot ends have been tied up…all that I need is to type up these ideas and actually finding a permanent Beta reader (: Thank you God'sAngel for being so faithful to this fic! She inspired me to resume this again.

Also, if I don't get 5 reviews on the story after this, I'm not sure if I'll continue it… understand that your comments are my lifeline. Five reviews are nothing… I have almost 10000 hits on this; I'm just asking for two seconds of your time . It might be weird to you how I'm so desperate for critique, but I simply must know what others think of my works.

Thanks, Jerkess


	13. Memories Fade

Disclaimer: Standard "Me does not equal Greatness" applies.

**Chapter 13**

_"When you walk away,  
I count the steps that you take.  
Do you see how much I need you right now?"-Avril Lavigne_

* * *

By the time they arrived at the party the second time, a lot more people showed up. Half the population of the younger members, in fact, and also one Shunsui Kyoraku, who was too busy harassing a very scandalized Nanao-chan to notice their arrival.

Kiyone, Rukia's sandy haired squadmate, squealed the moment Rukia was ushered through the door. Quickly, she called everyone close to them in a circle around the punchbowl and saved Nanao-chan from an unsightly slobbering. Somehow, someway, Hitsugaya was pushed into the smack dab middle, and was promptly made the subject of conversation.

"Oy, Hitsugaya, better not break this bowl, okay?" Matsumoto found her way to the group and smirked. "We kinda want something to drink this time."

Hinamori, who was standing next to Kira, smiled and cheerily served everyone some punch from the container. "I made it with a special recipe," she added confidently.

Somewhere nearby there was a loud, boisterous laugh, followed by insults.

"Yo Renji! Costume parties aren't supposed to be last minute raids from your taicho's closet!" Ikkaku, a bald man from the eleventh division, pointed a finger at his red-haired friend. By the way his eyes were watering up, Ikkaku certainly found Renji's found Renji's get up extremely funny. Rukia honestly couldn't blame him, although she at least thought her Nii-sama deserved more credit for his outfits.

Renji's face went red with embarrassment and anger. "Shut your trap, baldie!" His finger extended forward, meeting Ikkaku's insult.

" I'm surprised that you, bladie, didn't dress up as a bowling ball or at least a large gob stopper so that Yachiru-chan could have had fun. Inconsiderate."

Kira, of the third division, was garbed in a formal tuxedo and was currently in conversation with Yumichka, who had taken advantage of the situation and donned a slightly feminine kimono. The two were discussing the tailorings of their suits, and Yumichka was earnestly agreeing, nodding and saying, "Yes, quite beautiful," every other second.

Besides the couch, Hitsugaya was fending off potential enemies by standing as close to Hinamori, as was proper, and sending all the males death glares. He failed to see all the hopeful female glances he received along the way.

Oh well, it was his loss. Rukia smiled. Hinamori was in good hands.

Rukia felt at ease here. Sure, all the strobe lights and the loud music were getting to her head, but the fact that her friends, the people that she had known since she could ever remember, were happily surrounding her made Rukia extremely content. She half listened to Kiyone and Sentarou's incessant reports about their division, nodding sporadically, while half listening in to the other's conversations.

Isane made her way over to Rukia and the two embraced with much chatter and delight.

"How's the fourth division work nowadays?" Rukia inquired, quickly spotting a light bag under Isane's eye. "Don't tell me you've been pulling the night shifts again."

Isane laughed, her voice tinkling with laughter. "Oh, it's fine. Same as usual. Recently, the new guy from the Karukura bank incident's been transferred to my ward, and he's been quite the stress case."

Rukia could tell that there was more to this than Isane was letting on, judging by her's merry wink. "Knight in shining armor much?"

"Breathe one word, and I'll make it a point to ransack your room," the silver-haired woman threatened jokingly.

The rest of the night passed in fun and slight craziness…until Matsumoto pulled out the dreaded sake bottles. Only Hinamori and Rukia refused the drink; the others downed at least four bottles each. And, much like clockwork, everyone crashed.

* * *

It was now morning, and Rukia and Hinamori tirelessly tore through "the field of carnage", as they called the vast array of their wasted friends and garbage on the floor. The pair did what they could amids the drunken stupor of their friends. They pulled up random blankets to ensure a more restful sleep and confiscated the bottles clutched in unrelenting hands. It was so hard resisting the temptation to plant the occasionally doodle on someone's face...

Hinamori was adjusting the pillow under Hitsugaya's head, but his resistant white hair kept on poking at her hands. She gave up and stuffed a balled up blanket under his head after Rukia helped her hold his head up.

Nearby, Matsumoto was snoring loudly. Rukia never knew how such a beautiful person could emit such an unpleasant, odd noise, but the loud snoring attracted her to the busty woman.

One slender hand was propped against a picture frame above, another was touching the floor along with her leg, as if Matsumoto's unconscious form couldn't make up its mind where to rest. Rukia chuckled and shot Hinamori a glance, making her aware of her of their friend's comical position.

But then, as Rukia tried to push Matsumoto's hand under the covers, a sound escaped the blonde's parted lips. "Gin.…" It was a funny sound--, high and breathy, but full at the same time.

Rukia, startled, stopped and looked at her friend's face. Matsumoto's nose vibrated slightly as another snore floated in the air. Judging by the frantic motion of her eyes under her thin eyelids, the troubling dream was not over.

"Gin? No," shook her head, smiling slightly when she realized Matsumoto's ever-apparent need for alcohol, "No more sake or anything alcohol of the sort for you."

The two petite girls both watched Matusmoto's sightless eyes roaming beneath her lids, and were startled when her hand flew up in the air , frantically, making as if to catch onto something. "…Gin, stay, please…"

There was something odd about this, the raven-haired girl realized. Rukia looked at the fifth division Vice Captain carefully. Her eyes were enlarged, and she had her hand covered infront of her mouth. "Oh, poor Rangiku-san…"

"What's wrong?" Rukia asked her, concerned. It wasn't like Matsumoto or Hinamori to keep things from Rukia. That fact got her more worried. "Do you know what's happening?"

Hinamori met Rukia's eyes and she shook her head. "No, just a dream. But oh, poor poor Rangiku-san! Still thinking about Gin.…"

Rukia frowned. She didn't know what was going on. Gin? A drink? A person? "She never told me anything about this…Gin."

"All in good time," Hinamori assured her. She proceeded in making Matsumoto comfortable while talking to Rukia. "I think it was before our time, when Matsumoto lived in Karakura. Ask her about it when she's ready."

Rukia left her friend's side with her mind full. Matsumoto was always either very open or very introverted. When she got depressed, she tended to get very severely so. With those heavy, tumulus concerns in her mind, Rukia inspected the room. Who else needed taking care of?

Hisagi was surprisingly obedient in his sleep, and so she skipped by him. Renji was a completely different matter. Rukia remembered having thrown a blanket over her friend, but that same blanket was now lying useless under Renji's bulk. She sighed and got another blanket from her room. It was her favorite one, and there were bunnies on the fleece. Renji was going to through a hissy fit when he woke up with the pink thing on him, but he would just have to deal, Rukia reckoned.

As she was about to leave her dorm, it dawned on her that something wasn't…right with Renji. Strange as it was, but it bothered her to pieces that Renji's boxers had monkeys on them. When Rukia recovered from her guffawing attack, she pulled the blankets over him ritually with a soft goodbye.

* * *

The rest of her day went by rather smoothly. She hadn't been expected to clean up after the party because of her makeshift nurse work over the night, and she had left considerably early. That is to say, before someone with a hangover could wake up and insist on dutifully spewing out their stomach contents, like they were prone to do every time they woke up.

After sitting at her desk doing her homework for two hours, Rukia stretched and swirled around her chair. She had crept into Byakuya-sama's lavish retreat hours ago without much notice, and she was ready to move.

Grabbing her dance bag, she went to seek permission from her brother to go train for ballet. Disappointing Sode no Shirayuki on the second week of school was not a part of Rukia's agenda, and she needed her own time, away from people, to just think and reflect.

She went to Byakuya-sama's room with caution. Ukitate-taichou had told her that a mission to quench an uprising in the northern region had failed, and that the sixth division captain had been the main director in charge of the movement. She shivered slightly. A silent and brooding Byakuya was more terrifying than the normally reserved version of himself.

She slid the shoji doors open and stepped slowly into the room. It was undeniably colder than the rest of the house, and Rukia doubted that it was the precious papers stored in there that was accustomed to cold.

"Ano, Byakuya nii-sama," she called hesitantly to his back, "I have a request to make."

Byakuya, who had been in the middle of dictating a particularly…difficult matter on an even more difficult issue, paused his strokes and set down his pen without turning to Rukia. "Please state your business. I'm busy currently."

"I see," Rukia shifted to another foot, trying not to be bothered by the unnatural tidiness and the barren quality of her brother's room. "I have the report for Ukitate-taichou here, and I wish for permission to go to the gym grounds."

The clock on the wall ticked time away, and Rukia was beginning to fear that he fell asleep.

Her older brother slowly turned to her and fixed his unflinching gaze onto hers. Her eyes evaluated him and found that a vermilion bandage was bound tightly around his torso. She inhaled sharply, feeling his pain but afraid to express her worry. "Nii-sama, your body—"

He put up his hands. "No matter. Unohana will be in to see me." Rukia slowly tore her eyes from the bandages. "You want me to give this," he held up an open report, visible with her typewriter words, "to Ukitate-taichou and let you go to train ballet." The words came out flat from Byakuya's prim mouth (which hadn't appeared to have moved), and were more of a statement than a question seeking a confirmation.

Rukia almost questioned Byakuya's hearing. That's what she just said! But she couldn't do that. Byakuya had taken her in to the Society, cared for her, and basically thrown her a rope of redemption those years ago, when, according to Byakuya, she had roamed the streets aimlessly. To backtalk someone that she respected and especially someone she absolutely did NOT want to cross was not the brightest idea.

So, she responded with a simple, "Hai."

"I will allow both occasions to occur," he said, though from his uplifted hand Rukia could tell that he was not finished, "though, it is needless to say that I am disappointed in your behavior."

Rukia paled. What did she do wrong this time? Then her heart sank. She knew what was coming, and she dreaded it. It was like having a recurrent nightmare that insisted on replaying its gory scene, time and time again.

"As a Kuchiki, you are not only expected to adhere to Society ways. You are to set an example for the rest of the members. I am not admonishing you for leaving the Society complexes to go to Wilford; that was in part asked of you, in addition to your wanting to attend. Neither have you done anything wrong.--" _Yet_, his low tone seemed to add. "However, I have must strongly caution you again."

Rukia knew all this. She knew of the honor bestowed upon her when she was chosen to be the Kuchiki heir. She knew her duties, her unvarying obligations as a noble of the Society. She had never once forgotten. However, Byakuya would unfailingly remind her, as if he feared that one day she would snap and do something completely irrational. Rukia never understood why Byakuya kept such a close watch on her. She was staid, she was dependable, and, although Renji was would loath to admit it, she was one of the best young assassins in the Society. The doubt sheathed within her Nii-sama was disheartening. Why did it feel like she couldn't be trusted?

But something else came.

"You must be careful at Wilford. The Twelfth division has predicted a strong inclination that Empties will attack there within the next months. They know that we have sent Death gods to Wilford. That means you."

Rukia was taken aback. No further reprimands from Byakuya…instead, his warning appeared to be his discrete way of relaying classified information to her. "But wasn't I sent there to scout out more Empty activity?"

"You were. There are Empties on campus every single day. We know this from various dispatch signals we've managed to intercept coming from Wilford. However, Mayuri's precious technology isn't advanced enough to pinpoint the location of the sender, nor the contents. We can only haphazard an estimated location…each which is within half a mile of known Empty strongholds."

"I can handle that," Rukia assured, swallowing hard. Empties. In the plural. At Wilford. Her new school…

Well, she _hoped_ she could handle that.

Byakuya shook his head. "That is where you err, Rukia. You cannot always assume that you alone can take care of it. At any moment, if an Empty attacks, you are to alert the Society. It is no inconvenience to us to send out members at 1 one in the morning; it is to lose such a person as yourself." And then, almost imperceptibly: "You are my sister..."

"I will keep that in mind, Nii-sama."

"The most important information I am about to tell you must remain secret. I have to impress this upon you. For your ears only."

"Hai, Nii-sama."

"Roughly six years ago, right before you came to the Society, there were three Ttaichos. They were named Aizen, Gin, and Tousen."

Rukia inhaled sharply at the second name. Why did it sound so familiar?

"They were some of the best Taichos the Society had ever had. One was the most staid and composed that the Society had seen; one was the most cunning, and one was the greatest mastermind. However, what the Society had deemed as virtues in those people quickly turned into vices. They were not content to simply aid the Society in helping the helpless; they mutated into beings that wanted to amass the cruel terror over the people, much like the Empties had done. So, with a cunning plot laid out for two years, they deceived the rest of the Taichos and made plans to learn all the inner workings of the Society, planning to undermine it when they betrayed us."

Byakuya paused and nodded pensively to himself. It was the first time Rukia caught him looking even a bit distraught.

"Where are they now? Did we catch them?" Rukia tottered on the edge of the seat, hoping for an answer different fromt he one she was dreading.

Her brother silently shook his head."By the time that Yamamoto had unearthed their plan, they had already deceived most of the lower guards and some of the other Taichos. However, we managed to…recover. The trivialities will not be recounted here. In any case, we have not yet brought them to vengeance." Byakuya propped himself up slowly despite his wounds and retrieved a small folder from his bookshelf delicately. "Here are their pictures."

It took Rukia a moment to digest. The picture that she was handed was a very old tintype that was already showing its age through the tears on its side. In it, all 13 captains were smiling, each looking utterly composed and regal in their shihakushōs. Kaori, Yamamoto, Mayuri, Soi Fong, Shunsui, Kyoraku, Kenpachi, her Nii-sama, Unohana, Komamura, and four others she could not identify.

The four unknowns did not strike her as especially vile or conniving, save one. The first her eyes landed on had soft brown hair and a gentle complexion. Calm brown eyes shone through a pair of neat glasses. His shihakusho labeled him as the fifth division captain. This was… a traitor?

To his immediate right was a slimmer man that immediately evoked a feeling of trepidation in Rukia. The man had mere slits for eyes, and cold, flat silver hair. An unsettling sneer played at the corner of his lips. The fox-like third division captain stood unnervingly close to the fifth Taicho.

A bit further from them stood yet another Taicho unknown to Rukia. This one stood out from the others because he was uncomfortably resembling someone else Rukia felt she must know. Not being able to put a finger on it, Rukia settled with taking in his physique. Stubble-ridden chin, rebellious hair, and a defiant grin against all of the more composed expressions of the other Taichos. His countenance almost reminded Rukia of Renji's recalcitrant trainee days, and she was compelled to surpress a grin.

The last person was a black man. Rukia couldn't make much of him because he had been sporting a pair of dark sunglasses. He appeared even more frigid than Byakuya, if that was at all possible.

"Which ones were the traitors, Nii-sama?"

"Aizen." The brown haired man.

"Gin." The silver-grin fox.

"Tousen." The black man with dreadlocks.

"Ano, who is that taicho over there?" Rukia inquired, pointing at the unmentioned fourth captain.

"No one that concerns you."

Ah, well. Rukia didn't expect him to tell her anyways. She felt it was already a breach of Society rules that her Nii-sama was warning her of something highly secret. Besides, she had an implicit trust in his judgment, even when he did not repay that faith.

Clearing his throat, Byakuya resumed. "They have since been reassigned the titles of "PE 1, PE 2, and PE 3."

The Public Enemies. Rukia took back her assumption that she had never known of them before. She knew them, alright. The Public Enemies were the bane of the Society's existence. What an ironic circumstance, though, that they once were Taichos of the organization they were trying to overthrow! Besides the wealthiest Empty families, whom the Society were restricted from eliminating (due to the substantial revenues they bring to Karakura and Rukongai, however illegally) the Public Enemies were the most feared Empties of them all. They often worked individually, but on the rare cases they collaborated, their grand schemes usually cost the Society dearly. Their last heist had been the Hōgyoku. In attempting to regain the Hōgyoku , Kaori-taicho had been stripped of all his power; he had received a crippling blow in the lungs, in addition to having to have his left leg amputated due to a planted bomb in his squad car. Kaori-taicho was no fool- to have wounded him beyond recognition was not an easy task.

"I've received word that the three are cooperating on a mission targeted at Wilford. That implicates matters for the Society. Firstly, the majority of students attending are Innocents, according to your report. Secondly, Wilford spans a colossal area. Thirdly, we have no idea what they're after."

The latter statement made Rukia's blood run cold. This was an open-ended operation. Dealing with the three PE's in one go; desperate. Dealing with said PEs when their objective is unknown; suicidal.

"However," Byakuya continued, attempting to be reassuring when he saw worry flit over Rukia's pale features, "fortunately the PEs usually only go for substantial trophies. Antiquities, gold…things that will gain them prestige. It is highly unlikely that they will implicate hostages. Yet…be careful, Rukia. I showed you those pictures for a reason."

"Thank you Nii-sama. I know that you care deeply for my well-being. But, realistically, the most I could manage would be to hold them off for ten minutes…twenty if I had all my Society equi—"

"Rukia. Never try to take them on by yourself. Promise me that." Byakuya cut in sharply.

She sighed. Why was she so easy to read? After years of Society training, she was afraid that it had all gone to waste. The only people that had been able to see through her as clearly as reading an open book were Renji, Byakuya, and Kaien. And now recently, a certain orange haired idiot. (Though she'd insist that it was his dumb luck.)… It was rather aggravating at times, having your plans shot to the ground even before they escaped from your lips.

"Hai, Nii-sama." She thought to herself, "When have I ever disobeyed you?"

"That is all. You've taken a thorough account of Wilford's affairs." He gave her a deep, appreciative nod. "Your Taicho will be pleased."

"Thank you. If that is all, I would not dare intrude upon your presence anymore." Rukia bowed deeply and straightened.

"Rukia."

"Yes?"

Byakuya's stoic face colored. Yes, that's right. The Great Byakuya-sama's face muscles actually possessed the ability to _blush_.

"When is your next dance competition? I…would like to go."

Caught completely by surprise, Rukia almost lost her ability to speak. "They're random… I think there's one in a month from next Tuesday; that would be the fourth. And then the Niwa regionals two weeks after that, and—"

He cut her off. "Nevermind. I'll just go to whichever one you want me to go to the most."

Rukia could not help but beam at Byakuya's awkward encouragement. When she realized that she had enough of stupidly grinning at her Nii-sama, she bowed down, slung on her jacket, and was out of the Kuchiki grounds in ten seconds flat.

* * *

The Society had an old recreational center, complete with an auxiliary gym located in the smack dab middle. Wooden doors swung open to reveal a small, cozy practice area resting completely deserted. Not many members danced, and Rukia was thankful for the peace the familiar studio offered her.

It was here that Yoruichi-sama, an elite dancer in her own right, had first instructed Rukia.

Rukia had bound excitedly to the Fifth Division Captain after the music box find.

"Ballet? No way, kid." Was was the dark woman's initial response. "Find someone else with the time. I'm not about to waste mine with a flimsy wish."

But Rukia hadn't budged, and eventually proved her persistence by almost beating Soi Fong, an extremely devoted captain, at stalking Yoruichi-sama. The tall woman had finally caved in after two weeks's of sleepless nights with Rukia sitting motionlessly on her lawn. That Rukia also held up with a sign that declared "Teach me or else" with obscene goth bunny caricatures did not help matters.

Now, however, it was up to Rukia herself to train. Yoruichi had taught her all that she could and then some, but her constant captain duties and her running out of techniques to teach had restricted further instruction. Most days, Rukia would squeeze time out and practice on the sequences that Yoruichi assigned.

Rukia slipped quickly into her dance clothes, tutu, tights, and ballet shoes. She felt like she was finally in her own skin.

Rukia placed a CD into a player on the wall and set the barre up. After a few quick stretches, and she was ready to go.

A Tchaikovsky piece titled _Danse du corps de __ballet__et des nains_sailed blissfully through the speakers and Rukia began her dance.

The age-old twirls seemed etched in her mind. After years of performing, all of the positions, impossible body bends, and prances were at her disposal. She leapt freely to the rhythm of the music, letting the dance sweep her every which way. Today, she did not adhere to any sequence; the beauty of the melody simply bewitched her nimble limbs to heed its call. Rukia's elfin frame made her perfectly molded into a poised ballerina, and her agile movements made the impromptu dance seem perfected and effortless.

It was in times like these, in the deserted gym, that Rukia could think, or completely shut off her thoughts. Her mind first wandered to Wilford, and how she must research more on how the Empties sent out signals there. And then, the three elusive PEs. They would be spooking her in the form of every unchecked corner, every menacing shadow.

And then, there was… Ichigo.

In the midst of her brisé, she faltered. He didn't belong anywhere in her thoughts. With a frown, she tried rather futilely to focus on dancing.

…which failed miserably. Somehow, even though she did couldn't immediately recognize the connection, Ichigo reminded her of Kaien. It wasn't simply the exterior appearance. Something more subtle and profound was hidden beneath Ichigo's surface, she grudgingly admitted. Both men were rough around the edges when you first met them, but… there was that promising edge, that steely determination that flashed in their eyes, the eternal promise to a friend. The irony in this last sentiment startled Rukia as a shock of guilt stabbed her insides.

_He _never broke any promises. Yet Rukia had, however unwillingly, broken him. Godammit, why did humans have to remember the things that hurt the most?

He was running to her through the blinding rain, only a smear of white and black from the distance. And then crimson red slowly asserted itself on Kaien's torso as he crumpled at Rukia's feet.

"_Rukia, please."_

She remembered being wordless at this point. Her mentor, her most trusted fuku-taicho, was faltering on the ground before her, and her heart had been tearing up into a thousand pieces—

"_Please kill me now. I just tried to assassinate your brother."_

"Why, Kaien-dono, why?" She was sobbing, clumsily pressing her small, shaking hands to his gaping wounds to try and stop the bleeding in vain. "Don't say such crazy things, Kaien-dono…"

"_Rukia," he grabbed her hands unsteadily and pressed something cold and metallic into them. "Don't look at my injuries. Look at me. You're the only one that can save me from hell. Please." _

_She was shaking her head in silent agony, an unspoken, "no, no…" trembling on her lips. But his pleading, teal eyes beseeched her in a way she could not refuse._

"_Kill me, Rukia. It's the only way I can live with myself in the afterlife. Your brother was almost like a father to me when I first joined the Society … I repaid him by making an attempt on his life." Kaien regarded himself with a bitter chuckle laced with self-disgust. "Rukia, this is the last I'll ever ask of you…" _

_She never could refuse Kaien._

This torrent of feeling drained Rukia of all energy. She faltered again in the middle of her dance and landed painfully on the barre. Yet the fleeting physical pain was nothing compared to the mental torment she'd suffered since that incident a year ago. Kaien was torn from her world…by her very own hands.

Nobody blamed her. But that did not mean she didn't blame herself.

Somehow, the fiery teenager seated unwillingly next to her at Wilford evoked fresh memories of Kaien. The funny, encouraging, and slightly gruff Kaien she had loved and respected contrasted to a plain, rude, disrespectful, and impatient Ichigo.

He was also lingering a bit too much on Rukia's thoughts for her liking. Ichigo was a pain in the ass with no respect at all for personal boundaries. But, he also was incredibly perceptive and empathetic, even though he was repressing the 'demonstrating sympathy' component of the 'empathetic' package. There was something undeniably sincere in Ichigo's voice as he protested in the importance of life over wealth. He was so earnest, so convicted of what he believed in.

He also had the nicest coffee russet eyes…

A confusing, churning emotion bubbled up within Rukia. And why was she even _thinking _about this dumb Ichigo jerk again? She shook her head, silently condemning what teenage hormones did to a person.

By this time, her musings had whirled her through 12 tracks, the extent of the CD. That was enough dancing for one day. The sky had churned into a restless gray outside, and rain was steadily drumming its beat on the top of the roof. It was time to go.

The intimidating warning Byakuya had issued to her earlier that afternoon seemed unreal and far away: it was all but forgotten. Replacing it were those recurrent, fleeting memories that pained her.

On that day, the rain had been falling just as thickly and unrelentingly. Yet today, unlike her past remembrances of Kaien, persistent bolts of flaming orange appeared at the corners of her vision. For reasons unknown to her, she felt her heart lift imperceptibly at that image, and somehow the pain seemed to lessen.

* * *

Thank you guys so flipping much for the reviews -tears- Instead of five, I got forty. ILU!!

That being said, a HUGE, bankai-sized thanks to **Goku's Daughter**! She helped me beta this ridiculously long chapter with promptness and IchiRuki expertise. Check out her stories...(PS they're much better than mine x333)

And all my returning readers from eons ago... (Joster13, marislily, virtualailee, HyuugaHotness to name a few) I owe you my life.

I'm afraid that there was no IchiRuki banter. But I thought it's time for them to be a little more mature (as I need to grow up sometimes too). A plot is also nice for a story (lol) The next chapter will be Ichigo's POV, and a delightful omake I couldn't fit in this chapter will be tacked on at the end. In two chapters, our two lovelies will be squabbling again!

Love, Jerkess!


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